sMOkey and the bandits??

More like the Louches with Mouches if you ask me.... as I survey the strange lint like phenomena vaguely discernible on the upper lips of the adjacent males. Pooley looks like he's forgotten to wash after an accident with chocolate milk and wheatabix, and Brakey could pass of as Tom Sellecks ugly younger brother (sadly I can lay no claim to this creative imagery - although, at the risk of being severely unPC, I think he looks more like a bow legged Mexican baddie from a spaghetti western, but what do I know). Sammy pretends to be part of the mouchgrowing team on the 6th floor, but an innocent 'Oh, are you trying to grow a moustache as well?' (or four), diminishes his swagger to a most un-virile muttering..... Jimmy B and Alex A throw their fuzz behind the team, and we've got ourselves a bunch of hairy boys raising money for prostrate cancer.... apparently, there would've been more, had the price not been quite so high (divorce claims the drama queen, but I personally think it's comforts of bed over sofa for the 'manly' lot ;-)).

Yet another good cause, and I feel bereft of do-goodness, like I do all summer long. I do believe I shall pick my favourite charity and do my own fundraiser. A winter Shagathon, methinks! I shall raise millions!