I have been invited to provide an insight into the deep and meaningful pool that is my world view. The usual scribe of this blog – nice enough, bit old, bit simplistic – was persuaded that an alternative view of the current world state would be appreciated by both his regular readers.
I suppose my perspective of the various afflictions being suffered by the western world comes from a slightly different angle to the average cultural pundit, with a view starting just under the nose, and finishing somewhat south of the Adam’s Apple.
I am in my third incarnation, beginning many years ago in the enthusiasm of youthful rebellion, along with a full head of hair. The second took me through to late middle age – be generous with the chronology there – when the advancing grey seen daily in the mirror appeared to be announcing ‘old timer’ before my time.
However, comfortable now in my emergence as the adornment of an old fart, with a passing resemblance to Sea Sick Steve, and an acceptance that grey is on trend, I have emerged to remove the mystery of why the world is going to hell in a barber’s chair!
And the answer is simple. Not Enough Beards!
Firstly, we have to accept the undeniable fact that 99.9% of all the shitefests created in this world are instigated and perpetuated by men. And they are, by dint of natural selection, the ones that are tasked with the growing of the beards – sorry grans everywhere!
So, let us examine those ‘men’ who are causing the most grief at the moment. Trump, Johnson, Rees-Mogg, Farage, Putin. They all have one thing in common – apart from being self-serving sociopaths.
No beards. Not even stubble. Nothing.
The one thing that each and every one of them needs, more than anything else, except possibly lifetime incarceration, is a good beard to distract them.
Nothing calms the megalomaniac more than being able to gently stroke a full beard. To contemplate, to consider, to let things pass you by. It also hides those many facial defects that have haunted these men for so long. And eventually provides some seasonal work in December, for those who can fake conviviality towards children.
And before anyone starts remonstrating about the heavily hirsute protagonists of extremist views that we have suffered, and continue to suffer, their problem is related, but more subtle, and only apparent to a growth on the inside, in the know as it where.
Yes they have the beard. But what about the grooming? I am positive that a pair of trimming scissors hasn’t been within a hundred miles of those woolly extremities. And that’s before you start with the oil, beard cream, shampoo, and the comb.
So, the answer is simple, the solution slightly more difficult to achieve.
If it could be arranged for me to sit awhile on the chins of any of these deluded egomaniacs, we would once again be entering into the season of miracles.
And that is my offer. Peace and tranquility could be yours. All you have to do is somehow placate the old fool who is my current host. And I am unsure how to do that. He isn’t as stupid as he looks – not quite!
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