Mo worries

It seems an age ago that the first sprigs of fluff started to appear on our faces... those heady days of Spring smoothness and Melbourne Cup stubble and creative blog entries. Ah, we must've been younger then. It's amazing what happens when you let nature take its course and makes you realise we haven't really evolved much from cavemen (OK, women have known this for a while but then I'm constantly told they are the smarter sex...)

Grunt. Of course, like grizzled itchy old men we are starting to resent the fresh face of pimply youth, but it cannot be denied that there is this extra air of authority and security that you get with a nose buddy, a feeling which is dangerously addictive. No longer do you care about the dodgy looks, the serial killer comparisons and the cornflakes stored for lunch. Instead, you are happy to shout out loud "I have a mo and I am proud".

So in the name of Mo Pride, we went off shouting from the Canberra rooftops, or hanging around some shiny sculpture at the National Gallery and getting told off by some twit for being unartistic to be more precise. For ‘we’ read Ben & Neil, given Mat had escaped to look scary round a golf course in woop woop and Jason took his light stubble off to Perth.

It’s like they suddenly get mo's and Canberra is no longer good enough for them! Still, we don't miss them... in fact, their cardboard cut outs are generally more entertaining and not too bad at pulling a few charts together.

So this is pretty much as hairy as it'll get, though you can still sponsor us into December :-) Please do, it'll make the pain of parting with our facial friends slightly more palatable. And we might send you some clippings as thanks. Now how can you resist?

*****STOP PRESS*****

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