Back since the days when I was keeping warm against the cold, high mountain passes of Peru (plus the fact there was no clean water nearby with which to scrap a razor blade across my face) I have been flirting with a beard. Thing is though, that beard hasn't always flirted back. In fact, it recently told me it never wanted to see me again as it threw it's drink in my face.

In reality, it has been an abnormally hot, global warming-enhanced winter that has made the beard an uncomfortable yet ruggedly masculine liability. So, as has been a long standing tradition amongst my friends, I part ways with my beard in series of awkward and public stages. One of which, I thought I might share with you. However, despite many protests (and a repeated gagging noise) from Beth, I think I will be moving on to the next stage before going in to work tomorrow. She somehow thinks it's for the best.