The Fiddlesticks of the Booger Cave

Post CLXXXIX

Here’s the story of pluck, age, and Morlocks.

‘Oh, cruddy fiddlesticks’, I thought, as I saw a hair rise triumphantly from my nose flare. ‘Carmina Burana’ started playing in my head, music I’m hopeful you’re familiar with. If not, you should find it and play it whilst reading this, it’ll add atmosphere. With horror, I gazed and gasped at my reflection in the mirror. My forehead slumped dramatically. I shouted ‘ow’ because I forgot there was a mirror in front of me. Oh, the pain, the pain of it all! The first pluck was looming. With a hand shaking like a rigmarole on a dileo, I grasped my tweezers and plucked. “ARRRRGH! HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, HOW DO WOMEN DO THIS EVERY DAY?” I screamed as I started prancing around in a circle whilst galloping and flapping my arms around in the air in a hysterical tizzy. Goshdarnit, it hurt as bad as that time I was attacked by that group of Morlocks. Which may have been a dream…

Women will inevitably have no sympathy for me, here, so I’m now speaking to the guys out there. You remember that first time? You’re young and free, the whole world is a gleaming blue daze of horny endeavour and chocolate delight. And then you wake up one innocuous morn and discover a most horrifying thing. Your first visible nose hair. Until that moment, they stayed perfectly neat and tidy up your nostrils, but then one godforsaken day comes when one, just one little bugger, decides to break free. It’s inspirational. It wants to see the world outside its disgusting booger cave.

At first, you don’t want to believe it. You push it back up. The next day, it comes back, so you push it back up again. You might do this a third time, like I did. Then you move on to Stage 2. Ignorance. Total bloody ignorance. “La-la-la-la, I can’t see you! And if I can’t see you, you’re not there!” But damn it, it is there. It’s always there. So you move on to Stage 3. Solace. I’m 24, this isn’t supposed to happen until I hit 40. So you seek out others like yourself online, people who went through it. So you don’t feel alone. But you’re not quite at the acceptance stage yet, so you move on to Stage 4. Denial. Some would drink and drink to forget about the hair. Others, like me, eat as much chocolate as humanly possible. More chocolate than is sane. That makes you forget. But it’s only a temporary respite…

Stage 5. The moment of reckoning. It’s quite a sad moment. Sure, it’s just a nose hair, but it’s been a part of you for a while and it’s time to say goodbye. But this sadness doesn’t last very long because then you realise it’s no longer a friend. It’s a foe. A big black hair dangling from the pit of hell. For all the world to see and judge. No, it’s time is done. It must die. So you press the tweezers against it and you pluck like there’s no tomorrow. And believe me, the pain is worse than a thousand paper cuts at once. I’d imagine.

Anger is the final stage. For women, it would be acceptance. It’s a part of life, get over it. You’re ageing, it’s the natural progression of things. True. Quite true. But men don’t end on a note of acceptance, we end on a note of anger. Stage 6. The pain of the pluck and of the knowledge that you’re old enough to have to start plucking nose hairs. I’ll be going grey next. And although a silver haired Italian may sound delicious, I would look like a stick insect with a grey wig…

I’m worried. It took me by surprise, readers. I knew the day would come, but 24? Surely that’s too young. I’m still growing teeth, for heaven’s sake! But happened it has, and now I await the next thing. Grey hair, perhaps. Zimmer Frame. Bad back, maybe. Actually, I’ve had one of those for a whole. Dear God. The slow decline of age has already begun. And I never noticed! Right beneath my nose. My exceptionally hairy nose.

Am I still me? Women don’t want to date a hairy guy. Really off-putting, isn’t it? Imagine if she leaned in for a kiss at the cinema and she felt your nose hair brush her lip. Like, ewww. Or if she was washing your hair in your bath together and she noticed the slice of grey. What? Couples still have baths together, right? Oh man, they do right? I can’t be that old, surely. No, everyone has shower cubicles these days. It’s why I maintain everyone should have a Jacuzzi in the back garden. Can’t be that hard to make one. Hmm…

The eagle-eyed among you may be wondering why I already have tweezers. First of all, I won them in a Christmas cracker. Second of all, my eyebrows hate me. Mine do that thing where they spread out at the nose end. So all those little hairs that spread out I plucked off so I wouldn’t look like a freak. It’s a daily struggle to keep them trim and proper. But that never hurts. But the nose hair? Jesus, that was inhuman.

The doubly eagle-eyed among you may have also noticed I mentioned teeth. I have extra teeth. Let’s see, two top right, three bottom right, three top left, two bottom right. Until this week. Yes, an eleventh extra tooth has shown its ugly head. So, with my tongue, I’ve been playing with the thick flap of gum hanging at the back of my mouth all week. The new tooth hasn’t quite broke through yet. So the loose hanging flap of gum is an endless source of amusement. Something else, male readers, women just won’t understand…

Triply eagle-eyed readers may have also remembered I mentioned being attacked by a group of Morlocks in a dream. The details aren’t important. What is important is that I know a visible nose hair and the hell of plucking it will only be blip in the entirety of my life. That the pain is only momentary. And that there are worse things in this world of ours that can happen to you.

Like a group of Morlocks eating your face…

American author Brian Rathbone once said: “Wisdom is the reward for surviving our own stupidity.”

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the archives page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post

Hark Around the Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


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