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?

Saturday, 20 April 2013

Land of hope and glory


In which G.M. Norton waves the flag of St. George.


The 23rd April marks St. George’s Day, when England collectively Morris dances, feasts on the finest roast beef our local butchers can muster and Afternoon Tea becomes an all-day affair.

As I write this, I am stood in a queue, draped in a flag of St. George, eating fish and chips, with a cup of tea, outside in the rain. 

Shortly, the sun will put his hat on and I will enjoy a brisk game of croquet. With my hair slightly mussed after my sporty escapade, I will sip fragrant, amber Earl Grey tea in a delicate, china cup and tuck into cucumber sandwiches. These will quickly be followed by freshly-baked scones, covered in clotted cream and a big dollop of jam.


Saturday, 13 April 2013

It's a man's world

In which G.M. Norton celebrates the great British barber.


In need of a trim, last week I had the pleasure of frequenting my favourite hair establishment - Stans Barbers in Prestwich, Greater Manchester. 

Stans Barbers is a traditional barbershop with two scissor wielding chaps, Jack and Essa, working their way through wave after wave of men in need of a haircut and perhaps somewhere to escape. 

I have been patron to a number of hair enterprises over the years, including a handful of those whimsical and stupidly trendy ‘hair salons’ that charge absurd prices for absurd haircuts. 


Saturday, 6 April 2013

The gentlemanly art of self-defence

In which G.M. Norton marvels at Bartitsu, the gentlemanly way to deal with ruffians.


Fair warning to footpads and cutpurses everywhere! The next time you’re thinking of stealing from a parasol-carrying lady or cane-twirling gentleman, you may be the deserving victim of Bartitsu, a martial art for discerning chaps and chapettes.