Ladies, it’s that time of year again. La time when our aesthetic senses — and sometimes, sadly, even our physical ones — will be assualted by small hairs protruding from the top lips of men we know, and occasionally, men we love.
Yep — Movember. That ghastly invention of a cluster of well-intentioned male health charities, jealous of the wallet-conquering power of pink ribbons. An event created with all good thoughts of funding a cure for cancer, and no good thoughts whatsoever about ladies’ visual pleasure.
Sure, Clarky Gable owned the mo’.
…as did Dennis Lillee, and Matthew Le Nevez as Dennis Lillee.
And, of course, Newk rocked a mo’ like no-one before or since.
Tom Selleck was lucky enough to have one that accentuated his dimples.
And there’s only one man-of-a-certain-age who’s looked better with a salt-and-pepper ‘tache than Sean Connery…
…and that’s Il Pappa Trivialista, channeling his inner Bond on a Yuletide visit to Oxford Street.
But…does the world really need this?
Or this, I ask you? (As does his mo’.)
As aesthetically offensive as these last two are, it’s the fellas who struggle to grow two hairs to rub together for whom La feels the greatest sympathy. Like…
…Olly Bloom. I know he’s married to everyone’s favourite alien-eyed, fecund breastfeeder extraordinaire (no, srsly, I think MK’s great — if only I could achieve that amount of distance between los boobs and la navel — v jaloux), but am I the only one who’s ever suspected Il Bloomster’s a little — ahem — weak-chinned and straggle-tached?
And that’s being charitable.
Speaking of charitable, better dash — la inbox is threatening to buckle under the weight of requests for dosh from hordes of fuzz-lipped Wordporium men. So how will I apportion los charity spondoolies this mo’ season, I hear you ask?
I’ll tell you how: on a cost-per-hair basis, and only to growths that La deems to be an improvement on the greenfield sites that were.
Suspect there won’t be a pressing need for a capital raising.