There are nine English words for moustache, whilst the Albanian language has 27. Upon learning this I was immediately stung by a sharp pang of jealousy that I had been duped in choice of language. It made me ponder the happenstances which would have led to such an impressive array of moustache oriented vocabulary. As we all know, pondering leads to Google, and soon I was looking at pictures of antique soup spoons with moustache guards.
Several hours of moustache oriented edification later and I had supplemented the practical experience of Movember with some less than practical knowledge of mo’s. Although I was jealous of the many impressive mo’s which I inspected, I can (at the time of writing) confirm that I am very happy for Movember to be reaching its epic finale.
Movember is a great cause hidden behind a veil of childish men, wanting and willing to have a laugh. But this is precisely what makes it such a success. I mentioned in my first article that men can be prone to sticking their head in the sand when it comes to health issues. The same can be said about talking about such things. Movember has transformed the humble mo from its proud beginnings (gentlemanly soup spoons inclusive) into a somewhat humorous symbol which represents issues that few are willing to openly talk about.
In closing out my final article I wanted to say something deep and profound relating to my experience, and to thank all who have contributed (there’s still time! http://mobro.co/AllanClinch) however, this would be much too serious to belong in a space usually reserved for rants and gag-making attempts…and so with a cheesy Movember poem I leave you.
If you keep your Mo when all about you
Are shaving theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust your Mo when other’s Mo’s outgrow you,
But make allowance for their growing too:
If you can grow your Mo and not be tired by growing,
Or being a trimmed Mo, don’t deal in trims,
Or being a combed Mo don’t give way to combing,
And yet not let your Mo look too good, nor look too ragged;
If you can bristle —and not make bristles your master;
If you can strain soup—and not make straining soup your aim,
If you can meet with hipster Mo and biker Mo
And treat these two impostors just the same.
If you can bear to see the Mo you’ve grown
Derided by fools and made a trap for flies,
Or watch the Mo you gave your month to, shaven
And from then, trim it back with worn-out tools.
If you can make a heap with all your donations
And give it all with one point-and-click,
And shave, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your Mo and bristle and follicles
To serve brothers’ health for so long
And so grow on when it is itching you
And your Mo says to them: “Stay strong”.
If men can talk with friends, and keep their virtue,
And deal with things—and keep in touch,
If neither Mo nor loving friends can mock you,
If all men shave with you, but none too early:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of preening,
Yours was the Mo and everything because of it,
And—which is more—you had a Mo, my son!
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