My mornings this week are beginning to resemble scenes from slasher moves. Blood and gore everywhere. Well, mainly on the lower, hairy area of my face.
The thing is that I've bought a fancy new razor -- the kind of thing that glows in the dark (erm, handy) is battery-operated, buzzes like an electric and has six or seven multi-swivel blades.
All this pseudo-technology is designed to be "The Best A Man Can Get" and give us chaps a rash-free, nick-less, smooth and even shave.
..Does it bollocks.
Damn. The thing is lethal and would be better employed as a weapon in a Tarantino flick.
It matters not how much or how little foam I apply or how carefully I scrape. I'm getting shredded. Every morning.
This means that I spend the first couple of hours each day with bloody scraps of TP all over my mug and am actually carrying a few scabs. I look like I've been tarred and feathered and we're rapidly running out of Andrex.
Sod Beckham, the metro-macho ads and the flannel. I'm growing a beard.
2 comments:
That new fangled thing terrifies me, and that's apart from the 90p per blade tag. You're a brave man to have even tried it. Who needs a vibrating blade when DTs give enough of a shake anyway? :-)
One brand for you - King of Shaves. Lose the foam dude.
That's our client you're having a pop at pal. :o)Remember this from the Onion a couple of years back...
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/33930
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