Saturday, 27 April 2013

The fellowship of the moustache - part II


In which G.M. Norton continues his moustache-growing endeavours.

“In a stroke of brilliance I have grown a moustache” was my proclamation four weeks ago upon the unveiling of my infant moustache. Well, the weeks have passed by in a hazy blur so I thought it was jolly well time I updated you on my progress thus far. 
Who framed G.M. Norton?

My lip weasel is now eight weeks old and is currently at the 'adolescent handlebar stage'.  I am very pleased to report that since week six, I have been proudly sporting little curls on the tips. To keep the little blighter under control and aid me in twirly tip endeavours, I have turned to the miracle that is moustache wax. Mr. King’s Marvellous Moustache Wax to be precise. 

I am rather enjoying the need to possess little moustache-related paraphernalia – namely the moustache wax that I conceal on my person and a special comb to keep some of the more unruly hairs firmly in line.
The perfect pair - Kent moustache comb and Mr. King's Marvellous Moustache Wax
This may sound utter rot but somehow, the cultivation of my ‘tache has magnified the manliness I felt within. I suddenly have an urge to venture out into the great outdoors and chop up some firewood. As I’m not a very practical sort of chap, this type of feeling is most irregular.

In the eight weeks that have passed since I made a pact with my safety razor not to pass it over my top lip, the reaction from the great British public has been most interesting. Growing a moustache is almost like conducting a social experiment. Perhaps the government could fund me to carry out a more detailed study.

Surprisingly, I have only been heckled once – the hecklers in question were walking on the other side of the road and proceeded to shout thoughtful and intelligent comments such as “Hey, moustache man!” and other slighter more risqué things not suitable for a gentleman’s periodical. Needless to say, I what-hoed with civil nonchalance. I have a gentlemanly reputation to maintain, after all.

Rogue's Gallery

Apart from this little escapade, the praise has been extremely forthcoming. One lovely lady (a rock star’s ex-wife no less) commended me on my moustache and outfit before bemoaning the lack of gentlemen in today’s world. A man also stopped and told me that he just had to say what a magnificent moustache I had.

Then there’s the staring. Men mostly. They’ve even done double-takes, which is the first time I’ve received attention usually reserved for fine fillies.

So, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed reading about this and aren’t bored to tears. If you are crying, I will dispatch a carrier pigeon with a clean handkerchief.

Until next week.

G.M. Norton
Protagonist of ‘Norton of Morton’

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