Why I was glad to see the back of the beard.
Yesterday was the worst day for my beard. I went to see ‘A Quiet Place: Part II’ and it was brilliant. But I couldn’t enjoy the film partly because a bunch of idiots were talking like gossipy schoolgirls, but also because I had saliva dripping down my beard. I didn’t want to wipe it off because I have OCD. That’s the bugger with this condition - I listen to my compulsions, I feel like s**t. I don’t listen to them, I also feel like s**t. So I sat there like a fool with drippy, dribbly bits drooping down my face.
‘A Quiet Place: Part II’ was the final straw. I had to get it shaved. So down I headed to the local Turkish barber’s where a good-looking bloke from Kurdistan was trimming another handsome bloke’s moustache. There were about 5 boys in the queue ahead of me and I was just sitting there like a wild old hermit shuffling through his free-free zone.
Freelance film critic, journalist and writer based in Nottingham, UK. Specialises in cinema.
Roshan's Top 5 Films of the Week
Follow Me on Twitter