It's me and my moustache in Worthing! I feel like I should be saying "Rather!" or "What-ho!" or something. It was suggested in yesterday's comments that I'm only a wig short of doing a Stalin impression, which is an outrageous thing to say. I look far more like Saddam Hussein...
Kind of. Mind you, that was before he hid in a hole and came out looking like Father Christmas.
When I saw Lisa's sister last Friday she claimed I had a touch of the Dick Dastardly about me, but that was probably nothing to do with my moustache.
Anyhoo, my reason for posing outside Wilkinsons in the middle of Worthing town centre on a Tuesday afternoon is because I need evidence of massive hair growth to e-mail to my brother and sister who, more than three weeks after this tireless charity work began, are still managing to avoid sponsoring me. And that's despite me e-mailing them on day one, pointing out the fact that they both use tenners like other people use post-it notes, and inviting them to help me cure cancer. I did get a vague pledge from Big Sis, but she claimed she was busy trying to remember the stall speed of an aircraft at the time, and couldn't focus on my facial hair.
So with less than a week to go until I cross the finish line and shave the ends off my moustache to see what I'd look like as Hitler, I'm making another attempt to extort money from my siblings, and will be e-mailing them both this afternoon. So if they haven't sponsored me by the end of the day (whenever the day ends in Australia), there'll be trouble.