Movember, Mo problems

November means Movember and Movember means facial hair. Adults and elder Schoolchildren alike will spend the next month becoming more hirsute and the national statistics for number of goatees, handlebars, droopers and the caterpillar-lip moustache that usually only the chap from Sparks (see left, though it looks rather Adolf-esque here) and John Walters cultivate will all increase. I assume that the number of Hitler-taches will remain at pretty much zero.

I know this is for a good cause (apparently to raise awareness for male cancers such as testicular and prostate and also men’s mental health) but I had to look this up (maybe this proved the point about awareness) and it’s not exactly prominent on their website. There’s far more detail about the rules (are these strictly necessary?) and examples of the most impressive facial hair to be developed over the 30 days of November.

I like the fund-raising side of it, though I think I’d rather give money to someone who’s run the London Marathon than someone who simply hasn’t bothered shaving for a month. The bit I really don’t like is the increasing number of people who simply grow a bit of bumfluff because November means Movember and that’s what people do these days. The charity element of Movember hasn’t registered with them. It’s akin to standing outside Sainsbury’s with a plastic model of a lifeboat because you saw someone else doing it and thought it would be fun.

The health-awareness message of Movember is in danger of being lost when it is no longer original and I’d like to think that all the new David Brent look-a-likes I see wandering the streets over the next month are all looking that way because they’re doing something for charity and not that they’re jumping on a bandwagon to have a bit of personal fun for one month each year.

How about simpy persuading men to give money to appropriate charities without the need to prove via a furry top lip the effort they’re making (ie not a lot, and possibly zero)? Isn’t there somthing just a little tacky about displaying to the world just what a good guy you are; it’s not so very different from the over-enthusiastic silver-top who rattles the plastic charity jar in your face outside the supermarket. Charity shoudn’t need to have a fun side – it’s just morally the right thing to do.

Anyway, charity begins at home, and that’s just where you’ll find your razor.