Hair today, gone tomorrow

The problem with the Liberals is their complete absence of a cohesive policy on facial hair change. In fact, almost all politicians seem a bit light on in the moustachio stakes, apart from good old Mike Kelly of one time Eden Monaro fame and perhaps the Deputy PM after a heavy night out with Kev and Wayne at Fyshwick Hooters. If only they knew what intelligence, diplomacy and power a mo gives you. If Malcolm Turnbull had one attached to his smug mug his whole “I am the leader” routine would have sincere credibility. Joe Hockey wouldn’t be big cuddly Joe, but big cuddly butch and manly Joe, and Tony Abbott would look even scarier in his budgie smugglers on Manly Beach. All this mayhem could have so easily been avoided through lack of shaving.

Take climate change, for instance, or a Carbon Reduction Programatic Scheme Resolution Policy Program Initiative. It’s simple really… as Neil and Ben worked out in a five minute mo-stroking session.



Neil has a small box of Super Kev strength carbon while Ben has a big box of unstable, Liberal brand carbon. Neil trades small carbon which is of equal environmental footprint (on the British wellie size measurement scale) to Ben’s big box of scary carbon. Carbon trading done. Business over, and time for admiring each others’ facial fun instead.



Jason meanwhile just promises to reduce some of his lethal emissions...

All easy peasy, you think, but sometimes it’s only after a deal is done that you realise what you have signed up to. It turns out that apparently scientists have discovered that the mighty moustache is a serious polluter itself (bear with me here). So they say, the foodstuffs and minerals which find themselves easily attached to one’s mo calcify and result in large clumps of carbon dioxide emitting super-polluters. Without having time to have a snooze in the Senate, er I mean, anally deliberate over every single word in the Carbon Reduction whatsit something or other, we missed this point, and it turns out that mos, for now, are no longer in fashion. Bloody greeny hippies!



Amazingly and fortuitously, this coincides with the month of December and, for 2009, Movember is over yet again. Just because it’s December doesn’t mean that you can’t sponsor us anymore. Do you know why? Because men get diagnosed with prostate cancer every day of every month. Depression and suicide happens throughout the year. And we need all the help we can get. Please follow links to sponsor us, or simply thank us for being mildly amused, on the right hand side of this page.

Australian Idols

As the month of Movember progresses and the bristles bloom into strands of hair worthy of getting stuck in the plughole, it becomes more apparent of some of the pros and cons of sporting a mo. They are not compatible with heat and flies and dusty winds. They result in that look young people working in shops and cafes give you along the lines of “are you, like for real, like, ohmygod far out, Stan for Idol.” They itch. And they attract and repel in equal measure.

Australia doesn’t really seem like the ideal place for a mo, what with the heat, the salty ocean, the red dust and the preponderance of metrosexual moisturiser products. But somehow, as Australia always does, the country punches above its weight, and has given us a plethora of mo laden icons. From the first pioneers and stockmen to the line of fast bowlers queuing up to get one over on the Poms, the mo has been at a centre of advancing Australia fair. We love a sunburnt country, but we love it even more when the male population are sprouting facial features.

Now, the Canberra mos are inspired by the icons in this country, and with the extra thought and intelligence that one acquires from having a moustache, we have been musing on the stature of our attempts at hairy greatness in the wider scheme of things. Are we Aussie icons? Perhaps not yet, but there’s certainly a great deal of similarity between the arch of the Harbour Bridge and that thing on Neil’s top lip.



Are we embedded in the landscape of this country, like the grains of sand in the desert and lumps of rock waiting to be pillaged and sold to China? Hmm, maybe not quite, but Jason is certainly our own little golden nugget in the Western Australian wilderness.



And are we iconic mo men, like Dennis Lillee and Chopper Read and Darryl Kerrigan and Humphrey B Bear (well, he is kind of hairy right?) Well, clearly, no, but try telling that to Ben who is an icon for Gen Y moustache grooming wannabes up and down the land.



So we may not have reached iconic status quite yet, but with three years of intermittent mo growth on the board we are slowly getting there. There are far more important and worthy men than us – your brothers and fathers and sons, your favourite cricket team, the guy you eye up in the coffee shop who orders a skinny soy decaf latte – men who one day may face issues such as depression or prostate cancer. Continue to show your support for all these great men, helping to raise awareness and action to tackle health inequalities by supporting the spirit of Movember. In kind, or, better, in money. The links to sponsor us are on the top right. And thanks to everyone who has donated, whether a large chunk of your hard earned wonga, or some loose change for a crumby biscuit. Thank you. You are all great Australians too.

It must be something to do with public service regulations but there seems to be a distinct absence of butch looking men with mos around this year (so Ben tells me, as he notices these kinds of things). It could be the climate which has been hot (yes, hot, Canberra, I know, goes against all prejudices hey), or perhaps the rather sedate landscape of English roses and, er, more English roses.



Canberra and the mo are a contradiction, one orderly and planned, the other spontaneous and wild. With this in mind, it wasn’t just the hair on our lips which broadened this week, but the country boys came to the big city for a couple of days rest and relaxation (ahem) in Melbourne.

Melbourne is the birthplace of Movember, a feat which is enshrined in a little block of concrete at Federation Square (see if you can find it). Where it started exactly I do not know, but Ben was once again on the prowl for any signs of testosterone he could find.

They tell us Melbourne is all cultured and sophisticated, but I’m not so sure that they speak all proper like what we do. Café culture perhaps, sitting on a street, watching the trams go by, being admired by well-dressed women and, more often, men. Drinking lattes, just so you can get a frothy line on the mo, and tucking into fancy city food like, er, basil and avocado. La di da.



So we leave Melbourne with a better appreciation of how it all started, and what a good bunch of people to come up with such a worthy concept. Because while these Melbourne boys like a bit of fun, they are serious minded types too, and know how male health issues remain a concern for men and their families up and down the land. Remember you too can show your support and donate whatever little you have to this cause and keep us inspired on the long 48 minute flight back to Canberra. Just follow the links on the top right or email one of us or if you are in Melbourne, go and have a delightful chewy Anzac biscuit and give us a bit of change. (You are also welcome to come on over to S&G to have a stroke).

Meanwhile, in Perth, a monster is brewing…

There's something in the 'air

There must be some circadian rhythm to this month of the year, where stars and hair follicles align by some mystical magnetic force and result in a coming together of hairiness and the great, well, not as un-washed. Throughout October, September, August, July… (you get the picture) little contact is made with humanity, but come Movember and all of a sudden it’s a non-stop face-to-face, nose-to-nose, hair-to-hair clash between those well endowed with nose troopers and those who are not. Work meetings, focus groups, presentations with a higher than average audience drawn by the pure testosterone crackling in the air are all the rage.





What happens when you get out and about into the public domain is that you start to get noticed. Important people begin to recognise you and can see that there is something special going on. They can’t quite put their finger on it, but they see something about your demeanour, the respect and authority you can command just from having a mo, teamed with a clear ability to cop a bit of flak for looking like a tool. So they are keen to get you on board to solve their little problems. Got a problem with declining poll ratings and the challenges of appearing tough and humane at the same time? That very manly man over there can help sort it out, with his tough but welcoming facial feature.



Leader of the free world and need to pass a complex healthcare reform bill? (Who doesn’t these days?) Just call on that man over there, a picture of fine health and a walking insurance policy against hair loss.



Not all of us can be called on in this way however, and in a desperate attempt to be too cool for school seem to have disappeared to seek extra help in the mo growing stakes. Rumour has it they have been seeking emergency help and rehab from some former specialists in upper lip cultivation. Apparently, treatment includes many many cans of weak lager on a flight to the UK and a tonking of J E Embury.


So, er, yeah, translating that to the real world and Jason is on holiday and Neil and Ben have been pretty busy and couldn’t get round to taking any fancy pictures. But the growing has been going and it is a close race between Ben’s extravagant feature and Neil’s basic but sturdy model. Why are we doing this to ourselves (and our friends, and family, and colleagues, and clients, and people in the street, and aliens spying from Uranus)? Because it’s Movember of course. While we may be able to improve poll ratings and help pass healthcare reform bills, we need your support when it comes to improving men’s health, and would love and give you big kisses (OK you can opt out of that if you want) for anything you can donate to us. It’s very easy, just follow the links on the right of this page.

For now though, we’ll leave you to it and get back to solving the world’s problems. Now where did I leave that cache of uranium I confiscated…