Having sported a (quite frankly pretty awful) moustache for several months outside of November in years gone by, I feel that I’m in a suitable position to discuss the current fascination by pockets of society with the moustache without putting myself in a position to be labelled a hypocrite.

For decade after decade, moustaches were worn with pride by all facets of society; sporting heroes (Dennis Lillee, David Boon), intellectuals (Albert Einstein, Nikola Tesla), tyrants (Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler), actors (Burt Reynolds, Tom Selleck), hell, even Hulk Hogan had one (and still does!)…

Somewhere in the last 5 years or so, a strange thing occurred; the moustache was wrestled back from these men’s men by effeminate, rolled-up chino wearing, top-button buttoning, empty-lens prescription glasses having hipster fucks that listen to bands like San Cisco on their iPhones via their vintage-looking studio quality headphones that they paid $600 for after seeing them in an edition of GQ several weeks earlier. I always see these pitiful cunts bopping along to some ‘new wave indie groove’ (on the aforementioned headphones) in suburban shopping centres and although I don’t (normally) follow them to find out where they’re going, somehow I just know that they’re going to one of those fucking awful shops that sells 200 different varieties of tea at significantly inflated prices.

Hipsters – You’re doing it wrong.

I walked into one of these shops once as I couldn’t really tell what their product offering was from looking through the window and my own curiosity got the better of me. I’m curious like a cat, I guess… Once inside, I realised that they sold tea. Woopee.

Whilst inside this tea shop (which was a clear illustration of the ludicrous and excessive nature of Western consumerism) I overheard two moustachioed hipsters talking about a specific type of tea that one of them liked (they were talking very loudly because both of them still had their headphones on… must be chic at all times, remember this). One of them used the word ‘bouquet’ when describing the flavours of the specific blend in question. I left immediately to stop myself from ramming both of their heads through the plate-glass window like a medieval battering ram in the 1204 siege of Constantinople.

Another thing I don’t quite understand is why hipster girls insist on having their photo taken some form of moustache being the focal point of the composition. The fake moustache, the moustache drawn on index finger and then held to mouth, the moustache pendant on necklace then held to face, the list goes on…  Facial hair has never, nor will it ever be attractive when on a girl. Cease and desist please, you twats.

Whilst hipsters will undoubtedly increase the sales of Gilette dramatically when the humble moustache once again falls foul of their ‘hot or not’ meter in several years’ time and move on to the next thing that they’ll undoubtedly ruin, it’s good to know that you can always pop Predator in your DVD player and reminisce about the days when men were men, and moustaches were moustaches.

“Dylan, you son of a bitch!”

/end communication