Hairy nose and political ukuleles

This morning I felt a little spike on my nose. It wasn't a spike as in a real spike but a stubborn stubble, again a reminder it is time to get the tweezers out and check for the little blighters. They have become more frequent with age, it is a little like a tree. The age of the tree being told by the rings it acquires and similarly my age can be told by the number of dark hard hairs growing out of my nose. I don't mean those from the nostrils I mean my actual nose.  For it is a hairy nose.  This leads me to a self awareness of checking my appearance a few times each week and seeing whether they are noticeable. The last thing I need at the fish factory is to be chatting to a colleague and find their interest is

transfixed on the hairs growing out of my nose. Fortunately the weak uni brow is now kept under control also by lots of diligent work. I really am one of those fortunate chaps who is actually waiting for this fashion trend to become the in thing. Unfortunately rather than being a dedicated follower of fashion (Kinks) I've become a leader.  Except sometimes there are trends no one likes to admit to or be part of, on account of being different from the norms of the crowd. But I guess as you age you actually care a lot less about what the norms of society are and follow your own fashions.  My hairy nose is here to stay, all I can hope for is the rest of the world starts to suffer from the same short sightedness I'm suffering from as well. Yet another reminder of being old, getting old and of there being no point in turning back something you can't turn back unless you happen to be a celebrity.
Such as the late Joan Rivers, or the alive and kicking Slyvester Stilone, but then hair nose face could well be a bit more preferable from being plastic face.  Sparkling loves me, Princess J, Rock Chick love me and the few important people in my life love me and they don't stand there pointing at my hairy nose making jokes.  I can do that all by myself and thank god for the tweezers, my luxury item I would take with me on a desert island. I honestly could not do without them in any kind of emergency.


I had to take a double take this week it was when I caught an article on the news. The General Election 2015 is a few days around the corner, which I'm finding absolutely compelling viewing. it is so close so hard fort and we all have a good idea it will be a hung parliament. So there it was, Mr (Feck-the-poor) Cameron out and about doing a publicity thing to drum up votes having to face the ire of a ukulele strumming protester with a wonderful little song. Being I'm a ukulele playing crackpot myself and a harbourer of complete detest for anything which is Tory I loved watching this comic episode. Here it is ex-Prime Minster Cameron getting a little comeuppance from so beautiful small instrument the ukulele.

It is good to see a little extra in this clip and hear the views of people who equally see the Tories as evil basturds who have managed to increase the level of child poverty to a higher rate than any government has previously. In defence they will say there are more people in jobs than every before, yet the rate of productivity in the UK is no different than when they began their term. In addition GDP per capita has shown such little change it simply means the UK is going backward or is stationary at best.  The complete lies of Cameron and his multi millionaire pals on the government front bench have hoodwinked the British people only so far, mark my words they are going to be kicked out of government very shortly. However, the ukulele is not a thing which should be used for evil, and in this episode the power of the ukulele for the good of the people of the UK has really come through.  It is a secret sexy weapon of great, great value.  In this episode a moment of time has been captured which in my mind I will cherrish and keep in a closet to be pulled out when needed. Feck off back to Eaton, with all your Eaton chums Mr Cameron.

Well I must get out and do my Sunday walk, because if I didn't I'd be stuck here playing my ukulele and driving the neighbours spare.

Love from the hairy nosed man.