Today I have made a monumental discovery, Velcro. It's the perfect moustache comb! The mini beast has now reached a length where it is starting to interfere with my drinking, despite my joking about growing a 'soup strainer' with Aerospace girlfriend, I have my doubts now and have resorted to drinking Vimto from a huge jug so as not to disturb the torment that lies on my lip.
So what have I been doing these last two days while not blogging about the ins and outs of moustache topiary. I'd like to say I have been battling my way up the Amazon, hand carving Jimmy Saville's headstone or maybe even solving the European debt crisis single handily. But no that would be lying, something that is forbidden now I have the responsibility of a moustache on my shoulders, (or should that be face). However I have been busy, busy working out who I would like to kill first. First, second and third on my list happen to be a certain university person who I shall refer to from now on as 'Bastard'.... But I hear you say ''Why are you being mean Paul, you're not mean Paul, it's not like you Paul''. Well 'Bastard' annoys me in ways which only the Daily Mail knows how. 'Bastard' not only a seeks me out to annoy me specifically, like some sort of bizarre Quidditch game, he will actually stop talking to take a fairly obvious gawp and then dribble mid-way through a conversation because a woman walks past. It disturbs me, deeply. As if the workload isn't enough I have to cope with perverts too.
On a lighter note, because I know many of you only read this to hear humorous tales from my younger days where I tell you tales of nudity and shame, well not today. Today marked my first public appreciation of my 'tache, where a rather posh middle aged lady tell me how refreshing it was to see a young man with a moustache, despite me being thirty one and dressed like a scruff. So at last my hairy face stirs the loins of old lady spinsters. Take that smooth faced Brian Cox, with your eyes like Hawaiian lagoons and the soft Mancunian undertones that makes my mother say things like ''He can park his slippers under my bed''. Well move over Paul's in town now..
