It is week 3 of growth now, and what better way to celebrate this than a visit to the Cotswolds? For the uninitiated, you may not be aware that the Mo was in fact invented in the heart of the Cotswolds in 1337 (shortly before the first tweed jacket was made). Rather than a statement about men's health
, back then, the mo was used to show off the quality of wool that could be obtained from one's flock of sheep. Merchants would often interweave their tash with bakers' twine
and the best cuts of their wool. This provoked the infamous 'mo rising' of 1395, which resulted in a nationwide ban of the moustache (by royal decree); a moratorium which lasted a century.
Anyway, that's all made up.
The one piece of verity in my initial statement was that I did pay a visit to the Cotswolds last weekend, where I had to come to terms with the fact that I am a faux-mo. Now, this being my second year of tash-growing flamboyance, I have noticed a considerable increase in the number of mo-bro's out there this year. In fact, you can hardly throw a tin of hair wax down the streets of Brighton without hitting at least 2 other guys who are doing the facial hair thing for charity (as well as an additional 2 who are in cabaret). I expected when venturing into the wilds of the West, that there would be a distinct absence of tashiness and that I would be able to have many a discussion about men's health provoked by the obvious hilarity of my demi-month's worth of stubble. How wrong could I have been.
You see, dear readers, what I didn't plan for in my preparations for my excursion was the pro-mo: those men who do not make their facial hair look silly for charity, but do so on a permanent basis. Rather than feeling like the new kid on the block with facial idiosyncrasies worthy of comment and discussion, I felt like I had been welcomed into a fraternity that I didn't even realised I'd joined. Now, don't get me wrong, I was impressed with both the quantity and the quality of the Mo's on display, but my own personal crusade to encourage men to go to the doctor to get their bits checked up on was rendered null and void.
Rather than fall into the darkness that can only be felt by a faux-mo gazing in hollow admiration at a particularly bushy biker, a moment of inspiration struck me. Perhaps those in the Cotswolds where the mo is somewhat prolific could follow the sheep in spring and get shawn too? At least they will have something to look forward to when the rest of us are doing the opposite in November and they can talk about their prostates 6 months later to keep the debate alive!
Until next time!