I was going over my old posts as it has been just over a year since this blog burst onto an unsuspecting world and, as it is Christmas and I am recovering from a particularly boozy party I thought I would share one of my first recounts of my many triumphs in high society.
This was originally entitled – “I thought I looked Hipster Until the Niece Called me Santa”
As growing thick hair is one of my few skills, I was pleased to see the emergence of the hipster beard, and although just in my middle years, I thought I was at last in an age where my hirsute qualities could raise envy in the eyes of the younger generation and the ire of the balding seniors.
Arriving at the party, I was pleased to note that my beard was indeed the bushiest and my quiff one of the most luxuriant of all the generations represented. I grabbed a tray of salmon sandwiches to offer about, ensuring that all the guests could get a good look at my pompadour.
I could tell that all eyes were upon me as a swanned about, dishing out the sandwiches and making witty remarks to whoever would listen.
Suddenly a little niece, who I hardly knew, toddled up. I smiled down indulgently as she gazed on my beard and said.
“Mummy would like a sandwich Santa.”
In one fell swoop my image of myself was shattered and I could hear the words of the song “Santa Baby” sung in mocking tones by Eartha Kitt playing in the background.
Out of the mouths of babes they say.