A very close shave

Last night's results at the bottom
Gooners 2
(Rosicky 31st, Cesc 46th)

Bolton 1
(Anelka 10th)

Saturday morning and I had a momentous decision to make.

On the surface it seemed like a trite thing but when you really think about it, it has some serious effect on how you, and a few privileged others, view yourself.

Was I ready to risk my own view of my masculinity?

Was I willing to risk things that are dear to me?

There comes a time in every man's life when he is faced with a life-changing question.

Actually there are lots of times like it but this is the ONE.

Not only is it life-changing but it also threatens the man's, uh, manliness.

Yeah, it hits home right there in the family jewels.

A man has to stand up and ask himself this question ...

Should a real man SHAVE down there?

(Uh, ladies - could you please stop rolling around the floor and pay attention? This is serious)

... and it's not just the pubes, okay?

And not just the timid trims that marked every last Saturday of the month, either.

It's taking a very sharp implement and denuding every inch of your southerly regions and maybe around and under Antartica as well.

You'll know it when the time comes for you to face this.

For the woolly-headed, maybe it'll be when your partner flinches when you grind down for that final stretch.

For the under-endowed, maybe it's when you try to take a leak and can't get a finger-hold on it.

For those especially hirsute, it's maybe when your friends and colleagues start commenting on how cool your hairy socks are.

Well then you're faced with making a choice -

The woolly-headed can change his partner with one with a more cushiony mat of her own or get her to face away while he does the deed.

The under-endowed can tie a ribbon to his leaker, so he won't lose it again.

And the overly hirsute can actually tuck them into his socks.

Then again all of them can actually shave ...

After mulling for a bit, I gritted my teeth and made my stand.

Yes, I will shave today.

Tingles ran nervously through every member of my southern caucus at the very thought of something sharpish coming within nicking distance.

Hey, it's easier for you ladies - there's a lot less geography that gets in the way of a good nap-of-the-earth shaving ...

... compared to those, er, projections that form every man's (and ladyboy) tool kit.


And most of us do have unpleasant memories of the last time a razor got to work down there.


Nor did the celebrated Bobbitt case help purge those memories either.


Nonetheless I had decided and quicky got into project mode - evaluate, plan, mobilise and finally implement.


To cut a hairy story short - and to spare the winces that I know adorn the faces of male readers - let me just say that the whole thing went smoothly.


Thanks to liberal applications of shaving cream on wet skin and foliage plus lots of patience (you do have to wash out the razor every few scrapes, mind) and steady hands.


No nicks, very little abrasions.


And thank God the rump of my world is more Saharan than African grassland.

Otherwise I'd probably be tempted to let the grass grow wild and form a natural seat cushion rather than farm out the job to a local contractor.

So now I'm smooth ... and would continue to be so for a couple of days before I turn bristly.

And maybe I could persuade that stressed-out minx that there's something that would make her laugh, if she would deign to reach into my pants this week.

The only thing is, she might just coo, "Ooooo ... sooo cuuuuute ... !!!"

- which will definitely give me a complex about the whole thing.

Oh, the match?

Well, we were nervous at the start and almost f*cked it all up royally but somehow everyone steeled their nerves and got on with our normal game (22 passes and then switch passing foot, everyone).

We showed patience and when Rosicky scored the equaliser, we all calmed down and then Cesc showed remarkable composure after breaking through in the 46th, to hold and hold and hold until he had a really clear shot to put it away.

And we remained composed even when Sam's hoodlums came at us when we couldn't put in the third - despite s few more great chances.

Steady nerves, patience and a sharp edge.

And that's how, last Saturday, all of us got away unscathed with a really close shave.

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LAST NIGHT
Gooners 3
(Rosicky 12th, Cesc 73rd, Bapfister 80th)

Citeh 1
(Beasly 41st)

Rosicky and Cesc the Pizzaman got on the scoresheet again last night; the latter scoring a sweet volley just outside the box after Citeh had cancelled out Rosicky's early goal through Mark Beasly and were doggedly holding us at bay.

Alexandr Hleb provided Baptista with an easy chance after making a gritty run late in the game.

With this win, Gooners overtake Lily's Poo into 3rd placing.

However Moyes' men are seven points behind, and with a game in hand Rafa is not likely to lose any sleep over it.
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