The Daily Moaner

Regular readers with nothing better to do in their miserable, tax-ridden lives, may recall that  I had been afflicted with a nasty facial growth (Latin beardus beardii ), which I had partially eradicated, though against determined opposition from the beard itself. Read about it here and here.

I regret to report there has been a relapse.

Possibly encouraged by the ultry-violet rays of the Greek sun here at Lindos, the beard has reasserted itself.  At first just a minor blemish, the fungus is rapidly covering most of my features.

At the present rate of growth, by the time I return, eight days from now, I shall be a living mound of hair.  Picture Cousin It  in the Addams Family.

Each day, Dear Reader, I grow more and more under its domination, the razor dropping from my nerveless fingers whenever the beard feels threatened.  Even now it is a battle to write, for it is sapping what remaining strength I possess.

If any posts after this appear to be sheer lunacy… then all is well.  I will have won the fight.  If not — if they actually make sense –  then it has overcome me. Call for a nurse.

It will not be me writing.

It will be the beard.

Those readers equipped with memories may recall the recent posting here, wherein your editor had decided to beard himself.  He had taken this action (a) because he was convinced it would enhance his personal attractiveness even more; and (b) because it was something to do, and (c) the voices in his head had instructed him.

The Daily Moaner regrets to report that the beard is now a mere shadow of its former self.

It had grown to the stage where it was threatening to take over.  Your editor was becoming a mere appendage to the beard.  And the Lynx effect had struck too, with women throwing themselves at it, pleading to stroke it, to run their fingers through it. Although this was at first welcome, it quickly became a nightmare, having to explain to each one of them exactly who  the others were.

Worse, it had become bushy.  Worse still, it was itchy.  It had to go.  The decision was made in an instant, without malice aforethought.  Shaving soap was applied to the beard.  A razor was brandished.

The beard did not go quietly.  It resisted.  It defied erasure.  It fought back against the attack of the razor, with bristles of steel.  But slowly, slowly, your intrepid editor persisted.  First the right side was vanquished, like hacking a path through the jungle, machete in hand.  Then, with the beard temporarily weakened, the left side was cleared of face fungus.

At this point, your editor was left with moustache and chin beard, and the voices spoke and said “Sod it, my son, leave it like that.”

And there, for the moment,  the matter rests.

.

HOW TO GROW A BEARD:

Lifetime Award Beard

A busy day, as your editor — already handsome enough for two — has decided to grow his beard again. Yes, he is aware that this may stir the hearts of local females.  But these risks must be taken. It is time to bring out the beard again.  And anyway, it is something to do.

This beard has appeared in various forms over the years, sometimes clipped short and rakish, at other times bushy enough to gain entree to the Taliban.  In the seventies it was sculpted into a really nasty bandito style, which has resulted in ten years worth of photo’s which simply cannot be looked at.

In its present form, it is more a beard to suit a serious auteur; a professorial beard, deep and intelligent, though without being ponderous.  It is a serious beard, with just a hint of humour.  Or perhaps a humorous beard with a tinge of underlying seriousness.

Anyone who has ever grown a beard — you there, madam  — will know the inordinate amount of time this entails.  The infant beard must be stroked, and admired, and stroked again many times a day.  It must be examined minutely from all angles.  It must be monitored to ensure an even growth of hair.

Hairs which have the sheer cheek to be grey must be plucked out immediately, despite the agony. It is no good telling oneself that this makes one appear distinguished.  It does not.  It makes one look ancient.  There are hair nutrients such as Baby-Bio, to rub in, though we do not recommend these.

Or there is dye.  But no real man stoops to dyeing his beard.  What if things go wrong? What if it comes out purple and green, or in polka dots?  Besides, dyeing is as time-consuming as shaving, so what is the point?  But this is the solution of an absolute wuss, and should not be considered.

The George Clooney Beard

In the High Street, the beard should be observed in motion, in shop windows.  Passing strangers must be surreptitiously observed for their reactions to the beard.  Have they shied away from it, recoiling perhaps in revulsion?  Are women giving it enough attention? Should the beard be longer perhaps, for them to want to run their fingers through?  Is size important?  Time to establish a target-beard.

Famous beards at time of writing include the George Clooney just-stopped-shaving beard, the Brian Blessed, the Father Christmas and the W.G. Grace. Novices are not advised to go for the Lifetime Award beard. (Pictured above)

The W.G. Grace beard

It will be no use asking friends for their opinion of your new face furniture.  This is because your friends are all liars, just like you. One will suggest a simple surgical procedure called shaving, though this is not available on the NHS. Others will merely giggle madly and run away.  Yet others will assure you that “it does a certain something for you ” without saying what it is.

For those experienced beard owners who decide to dispose of their beard, possibly by selling it on E-Bay, a word of warning.  Do not expect people to notice straight away.  Years ago, your editor shaved off a three-year fully matured beard, on a whim.  Despite having a wife, daughter and son, plus friends, it was four days before anyone noticed.

And now for a quiet lie-down in a darkened room.  This beard growing is exhausting work.