A man is applying the same level of care and attention to his chin rug that one would normally attribute to a new foal attempting to walk, even though his general hygiene level has reached a level at which ‘Stig of the Dump’ would balk at.
Kevin Riley, 28 said: ‘I just bought a beard protractor on amazon. Okay, it’s just a protractor, obviously, but I exclusively use it to ensure precise dimensions on my chin growth that now means more to me than being able to eat soup in a socially acceptable manner. That ship sailed years ago.’
‘My beard needs to be nurtured and treated, not just with care, but love and above all, respect.’
‘Think Mister Myagi and his bonsai tree, or when he trapped that fly with chopsticks, and you can begin to understand how far off the reservation I am when it comes to a patch of hair that takes up less than a third of my face.’
‘At night, I apply sandalwood beard musk, read it a story and put it to bed in its own net hammock. I’ve never been happier.’
Flatmate, Dave said: ‘Granted, the beard looks good. But he’s wearing the same t-shirt and belt as makeshift underpants for the third week in a row and he emits a bodily aroma that’s a cross between wet mud and mayonnaise.’
‘He walks around the flat with a personal fly swarm eating all-day breakfast out of a tin.’
‘F*ck his great beard. He’s disgusting.’