The Movember Manifesto


By Taylor Wallace

There are only three types of man in this world you can really trust: a man who can say ‘I love you man’, a man who knows how to gut and cook a fish over an open flame, and a man who takes time manicuring his luxuriant moustache.  Many of history’s greatest academics, athletes, artists, politicians, despots and revolutionaries have changed the world with whiskers on their chins, cheeks, and lips.  Nietzsche grew his Walrus writing Zarathustra, Einstein’s stache inspired relativity, Abe Lincoln’s chin-strap freed the slaves, and Che Guevara’s goatee will be forever printed on t-shirts. These men, whatever their accomplishments, had one thing in common: they harnessed the power of facial hair to accomplish their dreams.  The Movemberists are here to do the same.

If you are yet to notice, there has been an influx of moustaches this month in St. Andrews and across the globe.  This marvellous occurrence is due to what us beard aficionados like to call the month of Movember. The exact origins of the month are surrounded in myths of drunken stache-offs, yet one thing is certain: men around the world are moustaching in a big way.  For one whole month no razor graces our upper lips, and we honour both our Mo history and our manhood with the best staches we can produce.  Our shenanigans are not without purpose: the true Movemberist tends a mouth garden to raise money for numerous charities promoting men’s health and athletics.  In our little microcosm of Mo, The Rugby Boys are growing for The Craig Hodgkinson Trust, The St. Andrews Mouskateers for the UK Movember foundation, and Lacrosse Boys for Team Scotch for Livestrong and Headstrong, because no Mo is complete without direction.

Sadly, the 21st Century has not been kind to the moustache.  Its ridicule is a reflection of the state of our post-post-modern society and the masculine reaction to ninth-wave feminism, et cetera, et cetera.  With women taking over the workforce, the playing fields, the universities; we don’t know how to be men anymore.  We’ve forgotten how to gut fish and love men like men. We’ve forgotten how to respectfully tend the glorious shrub that sits on each of our faces.  But some among us have chosen not to be afraid, we have become one with our inner man building on the facial sculptures of our forefathers, we Mo.  For those of you who still don’t quite understand why we would ever want such things on our faces, my next point is important.  We have a garden growing out of our chins, beside our ears, and under our noses.  For some, the natural reaction is to eradicate this garden completely, to get rid of those pesky hairs every morning, but for the truly sophisticated, facial hair is a statement.  When sporting a bushy stache or out of control sideburns we are telling society, ‘I am a man, this shit grows on my face, and this is what I’m doing about it.  If you don’t like it, laugh, cringe, cry, regardless, you will respect the stache.’

People often wonder why global politics is such a mess – why do our world leaders appear as hopeful idiots, such as Mr. Obama, or fashionistas like Cameron?  The answer is simple, they’ve gotten rid of their mutton-chops, they’ve shaved off their moustaches, and they’ve done away with their pencil duster in an effort to look ‘respectable’.  If you look at our current world leaders, none of them meet my essential criteria for a trustworthy man. Picture Obama saying ‘I love you man’ through his [fu-man-chu], or Cameron getting fish guts on his Prada suit and handlebar whiskers.  The people can no longer trust the politicians because the politicians are not people…they are deathly afraid of that hair that grows on their faces.

As I’ve said before, never fear, Movember is here.  There are those among us who have never lost touch with what it means to be a man, and who are willing to accept the moral responsibility that coincides with sporting a stash.  To show off our hairy creations we will be throwing a “Moustache-o-bashio” at the end of Movember, and you are all formally invited.  The Venue will be announced in the next few days, keep your eyes peeled for adverts covered in hair.  The proceeds will go towards our numerous aforementioned charities, the Mos will dress in attire most relevant to their unique brand of facial flow, and not sporting a stache will be down right disgraceful.  For all you lovely ladies and males who have yet to attain that age when hair sprouts from your face (never fear boys, it will happen soon enough) we will have a supply of stick on moustaches and markers for your enjoyment.  Get ready, because if you’ve never seen a beautiful woman sporting a stick on stache, you haven’t lived.

In closing this Movember Manifesto I would like to ask you all to support the Movemberists among you.  Ladies, if you are a fabled Mo-sista, love your man by going for that fabled moustache ride, I hear it’s well worth it.  Boys, although you be not men without a moustache, you can at least pretend by looking up to your seniors, by telling them you’re jealous of their growth.  Grace the Mos with giggles and compliments, give them a few quid for their efforts, and come to the party where we will all stand united telling the world:  ‘Evolution, you may have put this shrub on my face, and society may tell me to shave it off, but I will tame you both, I will manicure my luxuriant moustache.’


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