Saturday, 1 March 2014

A momentous mo-ment

In which G.M. Norton celebrates a rather special birthday.


It is now a whole year since I first started cultivating my over-sized soup strainer.

As part of the first anniversary celebrations, I have made a short film clip using a marvellous free app called Flipagram. A 15 second version is also available for your perusal on Instagram.


video

A copy of the film will be included in a time capsule to preserve a lasting legacy to be enjoyed by future generations. Other items in the capsule will include a lock of hair from my lip weasel, a half-used tin of moustache wax and a Norton of Morton calling card.

A few close chums help to bury the Norton of Morton time capsule
This may seem like a truly awful cliché but it really has been a journey of personal discovery. Before I began growing my moustache, I didn’t know if I was even capable of growing such as enormous appendage of the upper lip. It has also be something of a social experiment too. I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve been stopped in the street by people, either to tell me how much they admire it or for moustache growing tips. Nights out become a glowing light of camera flashes, a visit to the corner shop results in conversation with strangers. I’ve also gained paid employment as a consequence of having a nose neighbour. Quite extraordinary!

Of course, there’s the occasional ‘bad mo day’ to contend with.

Apart from trimming a few straggly hairs on the tips, I’ve steadfastly refused to trim as I’ve attempted to grow the hair from the middle to reach all the way to the ends. I must confess, it does annoy me at times when hairs creep into my mouth at regular intervals as does the struggle to consume food and drink without getting any on my moustache.

I also have a little secret, chumrades. I’m sad to report that my beloved is suffering with an unfortunate case of moustachephobia. Although she has been very supportive, I wouldn’t be over-egging it to write that she absolutely despises my lip weasel. I was rather hoping it would grow on her but the only thing that has grown is a feeling of hate. I quite understand her feelings. After all, when we met and throughout our relationship she has only known the clean-shaven Mr. Norton. She tells me that she misses my face and thinks I look a lot older (which I quite like).

My children on the other hand both adore it. I’m also thankful that they have resisted the temptation to give it a big old tug.

Of course, I realise that it’s not everybody’s cup of Rosy Lee (my beloved included), but it really is a matter of personal choice and by Jove, it’s filled me with happiness over the last 12 months. I feel more confident, more masculine even and feel that it suits my personality.

At some point in the future, I may need to bow to the wishes of my beloved or I may decide I’d prefer to return to the anonymity of a clean-shaven face. But for now, I will continue to enjoy it (and sleep with one eye open, waiting for the glint of a sharp metal object).

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

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