Sensor Excel

I've busted a beard now for three years with mad flex and full flavour, and as the subject of much female attention i've grown fond of it. But as one season drifts into another and the leaves of change coat the wet pavements, the Gillette grows ever tetchier in the toothbrush mug by the bathroom sink.

 The philosophical quandary of the beard conundrum is perfectly illustrated below.

The one glaring exception to this quandary being the absolute joke of a beard below.

Here, there is no quandary. In this instance it's a complete no-brainer. As mentioned to its owner on numerous occasions, a room of even slightly low light renders the non-existant moustache barely seen above completely invisible, the overall effect being indistinguishable from the look so coveted by the Amish community.

Could the jury still be out on this one?

Unlikely. I just busted into the court house,  AK'd the fuck out of the anti-chamber, moonwalked into the court room, did a 58-step hand shake with the judge, and as the paparazzi madly screwed in their flash bulbs, a unanimous verdict based on irrefutable circumstantial evidence was read out to the baying gallery.

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