I have been forced over the past few weeks to ignore the multitudinous sexist adverts to get my body beach ready (ok, so maybe those adverts haven’t been aimed at me, then). The reason being, of course, that I’ve been hard at work trying to get my beard Spamalot ready. This is not as easy as it looks. Because this is the current situation:
There’s only two weeks to go, so unless something drastic happens, I’m going to be falling well short of emulating my hero.
Bring on the Bob Martins*? And some terrible stress to make it grey?
Alas, I suspect I’ll have to make do with what I have. Unless I pluck the grey hairs from my chest and make extensions out of them? Hmmm… there’s an idea that will be significantly less enticing in the morning.
If you made it this far, and you’re wanting to see this spectacle, tickets are available here. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.
* Bob Martins are dog vitamin supplements, which are widely believed to contribute to vigorous hair growth. I suspect strongly that this is a uniquely South African affair, which is rather embarrassing. It may be an urban legend, although sites like this would indicate otherwise. You be the judge…