Check out this awesome customer review by fellow bearded chap, Ben. Not only was he blessed with excellent bearded genes, but he also has a great sense of humour...and a vivid imagination!
It was a blisteringly cold southern tablelands afternoon walking into the picture theatre in our nation’s capital. A close friend who was sporting a cheesy grin, a 3 day growth and talking smugly about living ‘that beard life’ turned to me and proclaimed “Oi boofhead, why don’t you grow a beard? We’ve only ever seen you clean shaven” Finally, a proposal to test my manliness. And after a few quick witted retorts and childish name calling, the challenge was accepted.
The journey begun that night. Vowing never again to let a blade touch my face, I set out on a quest to find the ultimate in facial hair greatness. Armed with a broadband connection, a cold stubby of James Squire and my most comfortable Adventure Time onesie…. I ventured into cyberspace.
With so many websites to choose from, I had to narrow it down realising that buying local wasn’t enough. It had to be Australian made. So I quickly filtered out all the poser sites that had male models wearing skinny jeans and a look on their face that screamed “It’s not a man bag. It’s a satchel, Indiana Jones has one” Sporting a beard but wearing jeans tight enough to turn your testes to dust on a quick trip to the shops isn’t cutting it. This wasn’t going to fool me.
Then, in my darkest hour (2-3am) and suffering from the worst case of bastard itchy beard, I dropped to my knees and whispered…. “what would ZZ Top do” And then passed out.
I awoke suddenly after what seemed like that time between hitting the snooze button repeatedly to a heavenly voice….
“Ben…… Ben….. Raise yourshelf up, my shon….” I was beheldingly beholding a vision so beholdeth I thought it was a dream. In flowing white garb and a majestic beard to match, Sean Connery appeared before my eyes and smelled amazing. It was like sandalwood and Jojoba drowning in Scotch. His voice boomed “Ben You musht go to the Dego-Beard shyshtem. There you will find The Bearded Chaps. They will show you the way….” Inherently I knew the great Google would help me on my path. With the scent of Sean still in my nostrils I hit enter and witnessed beauty unfold before my eyes…
Hand made Australian products so fine, it would make a Wolverine purr. I ran for my MasterCard, tripping down the stairs in a hurry yet not spilling one drop of My James Squire golden ale. My conquest was complete. 3 short days later I had that precious elixir (mortals call it beard oil), rubbing it lovingly into my beard the same way only a Thai masseuse could appreciate. My flaming red beard glows with the majesty of 1 thousand suns. The scent of my mane is second to none. My lushness brings all the boys to the yard… only because they need to know my secrets. Yea.
From that day I was complete. My collection is extensive. Oils, balms, waxes, soaps, sex panther… “I look good. I mean really good. Hey Everyone! Come check how manly my manhood looks!”
Beardless friends always insist that I go out with them to the local. they say it’s because they just want a few catch up drinks, but deep down they know bearded chaps make better leaders. And as for the extra attention I get from the lovely ladies, well…. Let’s just say Hugh Hefner aint got nothing on me**.
**statement most likely untrue. But close enough.