2008 Movember – Day 11 (Nearly on Time)

This was to be on time, but I fell asleep last night reading Jones Town. I’m sure I’m not the first person that Alan Jones has had that effect on.

I had my first Movember shave on Saturday. It was Katy’s 30th birthday party and I wanted to look my best: I has been promised the chance of meeting some policemen out of uniform. There were two concerns: (1) it was far far away in Cronulla (a little over an hour away by train in the middle of Redneck Territory); and (2) it was fancy dress, which meant I would have to wear my costume on the train. So I decided to simply wear all green and go as Kermit the Frog.

About half way into the journey a dozen handsome young men tumbled into the carriage and I was suddenly enclosed in a boisterous tornado of testosterone. I’m not sure if they were coming home from the races or heading out for the night as half were dressed smart in suits and ties, the rest in jeans and t-shirts. Sitting on the seats in front, behind and next to me, they proceeded to leap about, play punch, wrestle, and press foreheads together while telling each other they love them. It was all very strange and, frankly, they are so blind to how absolutely gay their actions were. To cherry the cake, the ones not in suits, dressed casually, were wearing their jeans so low they could have been auditioning for Kristen Bjorn*. The irony I suppose is that every one of them seeped masculinity. It made me think of a passage in Quentin Crisp’s The Naked Civil Servant. Unfortunately it’s packed away so I’ll get the quote wrong, but he closes one chapter by arguing that a gay man is always going to be a secondary creature to a straight man as the straight man (if I remember correctly) has nothing to prove, while a gay man has always to defend his position in the world. The gay man can never compete with a straight man’s confidence, reassurance, and self importance, and so will never be anything more than a poor copy; never equal and, most definitely, never better. On reading that I threw the book across the room in disgust and that’s where it laid for the next few years, discarded amongst the old shoes. I was only a couple of years old at the time (in gay years) and the last thing I needed was one of my gods to tell me I was worthless. I’m older and know differently now. Quentin was another time.

Anyway, back to the train trip…

So there’s these dozen blokes, the oldest not more than 22; and here’s me dressed in a green top and 70’s moss green jacket, in my pocket the rest of my costume – a green felt triangular cut collar, and a white Christmas bauble cut in half stuck on a green hair band with eyes drawn on in black texta. I’m doing my best to listen to my ipod and ignore their shenanigans, one of which was sticky taping the carriage doors shut (it was pretty funny watching people trying to get in). Suddenly – flump! – one of them’s next to me and nudging me with his elbow. “My hand still hurts, mate,” he said, showing me his bruised knuckles. I asked how did it happen. “I punched someone,” he said and gave a quick demonstration by thumping the back of the seat. “Well, that was pretty stupid then, wasn’t it?” I said. He mumbled a yeah then went and sat somewhere else. 

A while later – flop! – another one. “Irishman?” he said, and then again before I realised he was talking to me. “Sorry?” I asked. “Irishman?” he repeated, waving with his hand at my complete green attire. “You an Irishman?” “No,” I said, taking out my Christmas bauble/hair band eyes. “I’m Kermit the Frog.” 

Look, not wanting to harp on about this but not many people can catch a train on a Saturday evening wearing a moss green jacket and carrying a pair of hand made frog eyes stuck on a cheap head band, while listening to Bananarama and The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, sporting a bad moustache, and maintain a friendly yet assertive facade to a dozen half-drunk adrenaline-pumped bully boys. Up your nose with a rubber hose Crispy!

This was supposed to be a happy update; it sort of turned into one of those blurt blogs, didn’t it? I’ll just say that Katy looked absolutely beautiful in her French Maid’s costume. She’s definitely no longer that pugnacious 10 year old I once knew, but I’m no longer that repugnant 15 year old I once was.

All us Bros took some photos at work of how our mos are growing. My big problem is mine is so light in colour. It’s pay day today – did someone say “Just for Men – Beards”?…

If I can get the photos I’ll pop them up next time, and don’t forget to sponsor! Thanks for your support, Clyde.

—

Remember:

• Depression affects 1 in 6 men….most don’t seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide.
• Last year in Australia 18,700 men were diagnosed with prostate cancer and more than 2,900 died of prostate cancer – equivalent to the number of women who will die from breast cancer annually.

To see the great impact that Movember has had, check out the details here.

Movember is proudly grown by Holden and Schick.

Movember is proud partners with the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue – the national depression initiative.

* An exceedingly gay reference. Have a look if it takes your fancy.

2008 Movember – Day 6 (Late)

Damn this social life, it keeps getting in the way of my blog entries. First it was the GSN AGM (last weekend highlight that); this time it was the year’s final uni class, so we all went out for a few bevvies afterwards (I was very “emotional” this morning and am having a quiet one in tonight). I suppose I could just call this entry “Day 7”, but I devised a entry plan at the beginning of the month and I’m sticking to it. I don’t think any one minds.

I haven’t shaved yet, so at the moment I have a head like a kiwifruit. The soft fuzz is actually quite sensual to stroke. Clean cheeks tomorrow night though as I have a 30th birthday fancy dress party (I’m going as Kermit the Frog) and I want to look my best.

I must have a slow growth. Either that or I’m impatient. Of the fellers at work some have already got a rather respectable mo going. We’re taking a photo next week as a sort of work-in-progress. Also, a few people aren’t prepared to sponsor us until they see some effort for their money. Maybe you’re one of them? But it’s happening… slowly, but it’s happening.

Found an interesting piece on how to make your facial hair grow faster. Apparently it’s as simple as five easy steps:

1. Apply eucalyptus oil to your beard growth. The eucalyptus oil may stimulate the epidermal layer of the skin to speed up the hair-growing process. (This will produce a tingling sensation.)
2. Purchase and consume a daily supplement of biotin. Biotin is a dietary supplement that can help promote hair growth (as well as nail growth). The recommended dosage is 2.5 mg a day.
3. Shampoo and condition your growing beard. This will help keep it clean and shiny-looking. Plus, the conditioning process should encourage growth by preventing the hair from becoming too dry.
4. Eat healthy. If your body is getting the nutrients it needs, it will function better. This means every process will work better, including that of growing facial hair. Make sure you eat plenty of green vegetables and get enough protein.
5. Drink plenty of water. Water helps every system in the body work better. It will also keep hair healthy and moisturized, including hair on the face.

I don’t know if I’m up for supplements yet, but I’m all for rubbing my face in oil. Unfortunately I haven’t got any eucalyptus oil so I’ve been using goanna oil instead. I’m sure it will do the same trick. 

Someone told me the reason I have such little growth is that, being unshaven for so long, the hair has gone into shock. And then I found this article – scientific proof that it’s not true. How fantastic is that! You see, the internet if for more than just porn, it’s for looking up info on beard growth too, though looking at the rest of this site, it’s definite wank fodder for the discerning pognophile.

What else this week? Nothing really, just worked on my uni piece. Now that uni’s done I can dedicate all my time to the real mo growing. I should be preparing the walls for painting but any distraction from that is a good thing.

Oh, it was my parent’s anniversary on Tuesday. Happy 36th anniversary Mah and Dah! In all the hubbub of Melbourne Cup Day (I’ve got the office sweep down to a fine art after my sixth year running it) I completely forgot. I was so tired when I got home I was tucked up asleep by 6 o’clock. Only realised yesterday when I opened my calendar I’d missed the day. So I hope it was a good one.

Right, I’m off to Coles to buy some ping pong balls. See you in four days (I promise to write on time in future) and don’t forget to sponsor! Thanks for your support, Clyde.

—

Remember:

• Depression affects 1 in 6 men….most don’t seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide.
• Last year in Australia 18,700 men were diagnosed with prostate cancer and more than 2,900 died of prostate cancer – equivalent to the number of women who will die from breast cancer annually.

To see the great impact that Movember has had, check out the details here.

Movember is proudly grown by Holden and Schick.

Movember is proud partners with the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue – the national depression initiative.

2008 Movember – Day 1 (Late)

Ah, the beauty of a charity event dedicated to the growth of facial hair! Yes, it’s time again for Movember.

From the website:

Men lack awareness about the very real health issues they face. There is an attitude that they have to be tough – “a real man” – and are reluctant to see a doctor about an illness or go for regular medical checks.

Movember aims to change these attitudes and make men’s health fun by putting the Mo back on the face of fashion and in the process raise some serious funds for key men’s health issues, including: 

Prostate Cancer: because every year 2,900 Australian men die from prostate cancer and over 18,000 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Depression in Men: because one in six men experience depression at any given time but most don’t seek help.

As you can see, it’s a very important thing to support.

Last year I raised over $500 through the sponsorship of my mo growth. I kept a diary of the event, but this year – I’VE GOT A BLOG!

Also this year I’ve got my entire work Branch involved, forming a team – Statewide Moustaches. Details on how to sponsor are here.

So where to begin my mo story? How about: Friday 31 October 2008, at my friend Joe’s place in Blackheath, a little after 10pm, I shave off my beard so I could start the first day of Movember fresh as a dewy daisy.

Before:

After:

Pretty sexy, hey?

Admittedly, I probably could have done with the extra layer of fuzz as it got bloody cold the next day. I was in Blackheath, up in the Blue Mountains, for the annual Rhododendron Festival. Actually, all I really wanted to see was the Rhodo Princess, a right of passage for only the purest of the Blackheath lady folk. The Rhodo Princess gets to lead the Festival parade, waving fondly at the crowds from the back of a ute – followed by a motley collection of infants school students, SES volunteers, bag pipe bands, vintage cars and plumbing supply companies – down the main street of Blackheath and all the way to the spectacular Rhododendron Garden – which I can personally vouch for being (1) a garden; (2) full of rhododendrons; and (3) spectacular – where she is then sacrificed to the Gods in the hope of a good harvest the following year. Why this event hasn’t been shut down by the Authorities I will never know, but the Rhodo Princess did look a princess, right up to the minute they sheared off her head. This is why it’s very important for the Rhodo Princess to wear a red dress. 

That night I was back in the city for the GSN AGM, where I spent a great deal of the time talking to a stutterer about 30’s and 40’s films, and being spat on by a gentleman whose teeth didn’t fit his gums. I’d met a number of those present before when I went to Capertee Valley (more on this later) but few remembered me because of my new baby bum complexion (a terrible expression; why anyone would want to have skin smeared in sloppy green shit I will never know). It was a good night and I got to raise the issue of Movember – a large number of the men present are definitely in the danger zone age for prostate cancer – so I advised them to get a finger up their date as soon as possible, to which a couple went upstairs and started immediately. I clarified I meant a doctor’s finger but they didn’t seem to mind. 

Joe stayed the night at my place, which was nice. I walked him to his car around noon, then did a bit of grocery shopping. When I got home the lovely Anna and the gorgeous Robin rang to say they were in the city (from UK) and would I fancy a coffee. As important as getting this blog entry was – it’s already a day late – I figured another hour or so wouldn’t harm. They’re well and both send their love. 

Next weekend I’ve got a fancy dress party. By then I will only have the fluffiest of fluffy moustaches, so any costume ideas would be greatly appreciated.

See you in four days and don’t forget to sponsor! Thanks for your support, Clyde.

—

Remember:

• Depression affects 1 in 6 men….most don’t seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide.
• Last year in Australia 18,700 men were diagnosed with prostate cancer and more than 2,900 died of prostate cancer – equivalent to the number of women who will die from breast cancer annually.

To see the great impact that Movember has had, check out the details here.

Movember is proudly grown by Holden and Schick.

Movember is proud partners with the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue – the national depression initiative.

2007 Movember Revisited – A Bro’s Mo Update

In 2007 I participated in Movember, the re-badging of the month of November. Movember raises awareness around men’s health issues and funds for carefully selected beneficiary partners that are also charitable organisations, with a focus on prostate cancer and depression in men. Since its inception as a formal charity in 2004, Movember has raised over $30 million globally, significantly increased awareness of prostate cancer and depression in the community, and is continuously working to change the attitude men have about their health.  

During this time I kept what is probably my first attempt at a blog, sending it out by email to those that had sponsored me with photos of my mo’s development. In preparation for 2008’s Movember, please enjoy revisiting What I Did in 2007…

 

Day 1 – Monday 5 November

Yes, yes, I know I’m a few days behind the correct start date, but I had an event on the weekend that I wanted to look my most hunk-monkiest and a thin layer of face fuzz usually does the trick. Unfortunately it didn’t this time… now that I think of it, it never does. Hmmm… perhaps the beard isn’t the right way to go. Note to self: stay sober next time and take notes.

Shaved the lot off this morning. Sigh – I’d forgotten all about that tingling sensation of the spring breeze on a man’s most sensitive part – his upper lip. Strange how work colleagues stared this morning – wanting, needing, yearning – and then ask if I’d got new glasses or something. Been trying to think back when was the last time I went sans stubble and I ran out of fingers at August 2005. Let’s just say it’s been a while. I’m pretty sure that many of the staff have never seen me without.

My dimples are now on full display – I fear being pinched by old ladies. Also I’ve lost that razored jaw line that I use to create, so now my 30-something flabby cheeks are exposed – a dread a future of St Bernard jowls. A man can hide his sins behind a beard; without one he is as bare as a… well, as a shaved face.

Interesting on the trains and the streets. Every now and then I spied 5-day old bum fluff. In this present hesitant unmasked state I felt some solidarity knowing that there were others who were also prepared to take the month of Movember on the chin.

—+—

Day 7 – Monday 12 November

Had my first shave this morning. I’ve done a pretty piss poor effort in growing so far. Seven days after my full shave, I still haven’t even grown respectable stubble. A friend told me was that my facial hair has gone into shock, after being allowed to grow freely for so long and to suddenly be (umm) cut short. As you can see, there’s not that much difference between the before and after shots. 

Off to work with the new look Clyde face. Mostly furrowed brows. One person asked if I had started growing my mo yet. Personally, I think I look like I’ve just eaten a pie and have smudged tomato sauce all over the place. I keep expecting my mother to spit on a handkerchief and dab at my cheeks. 

Going to a dance party in two week’s time where I’ll be surrounded my some of the beariest of the Sydney Bears. Fingers crossed I’ll have something remotely decent by then.

—+—

Day 14 – Monday 19 November

Is it me or is the hair on my cheeks growing faster than the hair on my lip? For such a hirsute creature I’m doing a crap job at this moustache growing thing.

So I have put myself on a moustache growing diet (or for those in the the moustache growing diet industry – a mo gro di-o).  I have a print of The Laughing Cavalier covering the bathroom mirror. I light candles to the spirit of Rob Burgundy. I have sat through the first two seasons of Magnum PI (unfortunately this has also flamed my past interest in Hawaiian shirts). Nightly, I watch a hour of seventies porn (admittedly there’s nothing new there). My iPod is loaded with the Village People, Lionel Richie, ZZ Top and “Weird Al” Yankovic (admittedly, again, not much difference to the usual playlist, just with less Bucks Fizz and Bananarama). I eat a diet of muscles without first removing the beards. And I’m working my way through the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe and Nietzsche – I’m presently up to “The Good and Evil of the Tell-Tale Heart” (that’s what I mean when I say “collected’).

But nothing seems to be working. 

So I’ve resorted to dire measures. An overly short haircut was step number one. Step two was the purchase of Just For Men – Beards under plain wrapper. But all of this is nothing compared to the level I sunk in the short days past…

It was Saturday. It was late. I was stumbling home from a jolly night of too much drag queen and not enough beer, and so had picked up a chicken kebab to keep me company. Down the dark alleys to my place I went, until I heard a “psst” from a blackened corner. I stop and watch a youth with a tick appear in the light of the moon. He was wearing a hooded jacket with SLAPPY HAPPY emblazoned across the front. The youth was just in jeans and a singlet. 

“Hey,” said the youth, “wanna buy some hair growth formula?”

I took a step closer, checking first to see if anyone was coming. “I’m interested.”

The youth tapped the tick on its antenna and it scurried around for the youth to retrieve a small vial from the tick’s jacket’s hood. Throughout all this I remained calm – I’ve lived in the Cross all my Sydney life after all; doing deals with large burrowing insects was nothing new to me. Besides, I’d read Kafka.

The youth flipped the lid and poured out a few small pills. I stepped closer and, after first wiping a kebabby hand on my t-shirt, reached out to better examine the wares. The youth ducked back to the shadows, either protecting his product or from the stench of garlic sauce of my breath. 

“T’s good stuff mate,” says the youth, “I mean, my mate thinks he’s some sort of blood sucking creature. How’s that for a trip?” Looking from the tick to the youth, I couldn’t tell which one was worse.

But eager for the wares, who was I to argue? I handed over my money and hurried home with two tablets in a small self sealing bag. Slamming the door I flicked on the light to examine my magic hair growth pills of happiness …

… you think he could at least had the decency to scratch the Panadol label off first!

Of course, this all happened during a week where I received a somewhat disturbing chain mail package containing a little wax man amulet that “promises” me a long term relationship and condom free intercourse. Even though both the police and the gay anti-violence protection group have failed to react, since getting the figurine I have had threesome sex, discovered 50 bucks of free alcohol, and received a 25% discount off the purchase of underwear, so BRING ON THOSE SUPERSTITIONS!!!           

—+—

Day 17 – Wednesday 21 November

You know those moments when you’re sitting on a cold marble floor watching two women dressed in black unitards throw an 8 foot wide balloon around a room which is being projected with images of a bronze-painted woman, while another plays a violin in conjunction to a backing track of guttural screams? Only too well? Don’t we all. I sat there thankful for my glass of straw (unthankful when it was empty mere seconds into the routine) and realised this is why we go to art galleries. Who needs a water-colour landscape when you can have interpretative dance? Anyway, in between thoughts of trying to work out how I could slip the room without being noticed (a difficult task considering I was sitting in the front) and trying to self-intoxicate via my remaining fumes of Old Spice, I pondered what should be the next step of my moustache. So I thought I’d leave it up to you.

There’s two options: 1 – Go the way of the Village People’s Leatherman (as I’m presently wearing my mo) and let it drape down the face like a set of stage curtains; or 2 – go the way of the Village People’s Construction Worker and shave off the dangles. 

The other question is: does it need a bit of colour? Rusty Brown, Earth Brown or Dark Brown? Actually, considering we are talking men’s hair dye here, it probably comes in shades of Brown, Brown and Brown.

What are your thoughts?

Back in the gallery, fifteen minutes later, up went the lights and we all clapped politely… all except one lass behind me who took it upon herself to scream “Bravo!” Over the speakers came the offer to return in five minutes and bounce the ball around yourselves. I hurried back to the wine, forced half a glass, then went and soothed myself in an aloe blend of Heidelbergs and Cossington Smiths. That Tom Roberts, he knew where it was AT!

Incidentally, please let me thank all you wonderful people out there that are sponsoring my mo – these entries are especially for you (so you know you’re getting your money’s worth!). But it’s never too late for the rest of you…

—+—

Day 21 – Sunday 25 November

Well, the construction worker won the night. In hindsight I should have given the mo a colour, a quick dose of Just For Men. I don’t think it matters that much. I didn’t shave the curtains till after the election party (there was something on the telly, I think it was Idol – Just text the word “GREEN” to 1900 864 586) so the above pics are taken about midnight, just before I walked out the door to the Underbear Party, where I was helping with the cloak check (amongst other things). 

The glasses went within two minutes of walking in the door – I couldn’t see a thing! – so they spent the entire night clipped to the side of my smalls. The hat lasted a minute or two more before that got too heavy, so in the end the mo was probably not as necessary as I had first planned.

The other pics (as you can probably guess) are of me when I got home, sometime after 8 (I think it was). Somewhere in between helping with the clean up and leaving the party there was breakfast with some of the others so it probably was about 8 then when I walked through the door. I was very tired and have spent the entire day asleep on the couch. 

Now that I’m up I should get something light to eat. Turning on the computer I have also discovered the that BBC translation of Jane Eyre, an event I have waited a year to see, started half an hour ago. Bugger. Will just have to get the DVD (Rochester is one of the spunkiest characters ever written. Jane, on the other hand, is an up-right duck). 

As I type this there are explosions outside. Could be one of three things: (1) We’re at war; (2) The winner ofIdol has just been announced; or (3) Howard has blown up Kirribilli, taking Janet with him. 

This Wednesday is the Gala Parte (with a little line thing above the “e”) for Movember. A field of mo’s as far as the eye can see. It will be a Pogonophobist’ nightmare! Should be fun…

—+—

Day 24 – Wednesday 28 November

The night of the Mo Gala Parte

(The Penultimate Update)

Read on…

THE COMEDY OF FELLERS

A Night of Bad Planning and Facial Hair in Three Acts

Not by William Shakespeare

—

PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus

CHORUS
Two friends, both alike in beardity
In fair Sydney, where we set out scene,
Plan to meet and enjoy the mutiny
Of razors, blades and top lips clean.

This tale for who your patient ears attend,
Begins at the hour at what the work day end.

—

ACT ONE
1.1 The Grand Quarters of Clyde

Enter Clyde

CLYDE
Gasp, I say, what hot day this be,
And here me wet like the first guest of Hell.
A date tonight – a planned meeting
‘Tween myself and kindly Benson,
(Aside) Thankst made to Brad for walking the dog.
Yet still tis only count of half and five,
‘Tis not till the stroke of seven that I meet the man on the Town Hall steps.
A half-hour refreshment is awarded me,
And so I enjoyst the Antiques Roadshow with its many coloured glass and finery.

(A clock strikes six)

Ah, the hour is upon me.
Luck that twice I have seen this episode of The Simpsons
One wonders what eps one hasn’t seen?
And such to toilet:
To clean thy skin;
To sheen thy cheeks of stub;
To preen thy shirt pressed.
How dost I look?: gorgeoust onest thinkst.
Time now to Benson meet – ah, musn’t forgetst ticketst.

(he checks satchel)

Oh Buggerst,
I’ve left them at work.
The fear now, what to do?
A plan! I ringst work.
Surely some poor soul still there.
A chime, and then another,
But Hark! The phone is answered!
Imelda! Praise be the Lord that you remain!
I’ve done something rather silly,
And perhapst you can relieve me?

For save! A plan does hatch,
And so to Benson I must dispatch.

(Exit)

—

ACT TWO
2.1 A Traveller’s Station

Enter Clyde and Benson

BENSON
Oh Knave! I chortle with glee.
Of all the Luck!

CLYDE
The Lady does not visit me tonight.

BENSON
I poke and smirk:
Thy Rouge Rogue;
Thy Scarlet Harlet;
Thy Crimson Son of Crime.
These three and three again
I name thee.
If truth be told,
Bit of a dickhead, aren’t you?

CLYDE
Aye, I take this label,
On my head I wear a dick.
Yet we arrive now Sydney North
With trust in Imelda I hold our fate.

—

2.2 A Spot Back of Work Building

BENSON
Pray tell me kind Sir,
Why must we search through these leafy shrubs?

CLYDE
The fair Imelda has placest thy tickets
Aside for only our eyes to see.
Search yonder noble Son of Ben
For an internal envelope the shade of a robin’s egg.

(He finds the envelope)

Behold! The Prize!
Saint Imelda be praised!

And now this league to the Gala go.
What shall it become nobody know.

(Exeunt)

—

ACT THREE
3.1 A Luna Park

Enter Clyde and Benson, and guests and gentlewomen in fine livery

CLYDE
Alarm! What sights I see!

BENSON
And I to boot.

CLYDE
Never have I such gaiety witnessed with myne eye
Men – all ‘stached – dressed in bright colours.
There, to my left, stand five Ron Burgundys,
And now, to my right, the Australian Cricket team.
Over yonder “FedSex” delivery boys
And attendants who have come to clean the pool.
Aside stands a gathering of Fred Flintstones and Bjorn Borgs,
While further still Fat Spartans parade.
All around gather sailors, porn stars, Hefner wanna-bes,
Surf life savers, and suits both flashy and gaudy.
Some men in drag, others dressed as hunters.
All bright and colourful and strange.

BENSON
Yes, and if you think about it,
Just a little bit gay.

CLYDE
Aye, there’s the rub.

—

3.2 A Slippery Slide Ride.

Enter Clyde, Benson and KPMG Party

CLYDE
Corr.

BENSON
You Corrst?

CLYDE
Aye, I corr.
Check out that ride attender,
The one in fronst in the KPMG running shorts.

BENSON
A see him. 
What captures thyne attention?

CLYDE
Zounds! Ist my friend blind?
Canst onest seest hist arst?
Notice the rear on that thing?
What beauty. What grace.
Ist like two halfs of a watermelon shoved in his britches!

BENSON
Aye. There is theatre in his globes.

CLYDE
Alarm! His Globes are the Theatre! (think about it, think about it)

BENSON
(Ponders) His rump does linger.

CLYDE
(Aside) If only I to linger near his rump.
My Sword!

BENSON
Comest, let’s to an ale.

(Exeunt)
—

3.3 A Luna Park

Enter Clyde, Benson, guests and gentlewomen, and Surf Life Saver.

BENSON
To thy health!

CLYDE
And thou!

(They drink)

CLYDE
You know, afraid, I muse,
Beer really does taste like crap when drunk from a can.

BENSON
In all heart I agree.

(A trumpet blasts)

BENSON
Alarm! They announce the prizes.
(Aside) Pity I can’t read the screen
Due to such poor projection.

CLYDE
Yet there is no pity of what I see.
Be where myne eyes do march,
To that Life Saver. Surely he jest
For no life myne he save, but breath he take.

BENSON
Yeah, ’tis pretty good.

CLYDE
Pretty good! You jest as well!
Is that not the most perfect Titus Andronicus?
Yarks! He clencheth!
Surely this a man who can walk a mile
Carrying a pizza box and two beers.

BENSON
Like I sayst, my seriously in needst of a root companion,
‘Tis all a bit gay.
Those gorgest creatures of the same mold made
As gay dance party Muscle Marys.

CLYDE
I ask?

BENSON
All lookst and no touchst.

CLYDE
Sigh, my Sage, I am in your debt.
While your words do touch my heart:
I must not touch their souls.

BENSON
To home.

CLYDE
To home.
(Aside) Yet my kingdom for a roam.

(Exeunt)

—

EPILOGUE

Enter Chorus

CHORUS
Here ends this story full of mo,
Of a feller and his Bro.

END

—+—

The Round-up – Wednesday 5 December – The final entry for Movember 2007

Sigh. The end of Movember. All the mo’s have gone. Me; I went clean-skin on the Saturday and am slowly growing the old beard back. 

In all, during the month of Movember, 96,640 Aussie Mo Bros and Mo Sistas raised an amazing $10,948,540! Thanks to you, I was sponsored a whopping $510 – well over the Mo-Grower average! So let me say again – thank you, thank you, thank you.

Next year, I hope to see you all again and hopefully not just as sponsors – but as mo-growers yourselves…