I’m not talking about the Katie Holmes kind of beard *nudge nudge, wink wink*. I’m talking about the kind that men grow on their faces for whatever reason. I hate them. Now, don’t get me wrong – I know that some people have beards for religious or cultural reasons, but even God can’t make that facial fuzz look good. Offensive much? Bite me. This site was started from a mutual love of various male celebrities, and even those (as I will demonstrate now) can’t change my mind on this. Here are my top 5 reasons for hating beards, in no particular order.
1. We Want To See That Jawline, Baby!
Let’s take a really easy example, Benedict Cumberbatch (you knew this would happen, you knew I would be writing about him at some point) – he’s attractive in a weird, shiny, squinty sort of way, and unattractive for exactly the same reasons. He has a huge fan base, doesn’t speak like a total fucking idiot, comes across as genuinely highly intelligent and is undeniably one of Britain’s best actors. But even The Almighty B-Batch cannot be forgiven for this:
There are no excuses for this kind of hot mess, particularly when you know that there is this underneath:
A big part of it is that a man’s jawline is one of those inexplicably sexy things, like their shoulders or forearms – you don’t need to cover it up. I love adverts for men’s razors, because:
1) They normally have fit blokes, not even going to lie about that
2) They’re not full of flowers and ‘empowering’ messages like the ads for Venus or every other women’s hair removal product. It’s just “This blade will cut hair”
3) Razors are the beard’s natural enemy, ask any anthropologist and they’ll just confirm it.
4) The main reason – they always have a man running his hands across his freshly shaven jaw with a disturbingly satisfied and smug look on his face.
A strong jaw is so attractive on a man, although not so much on a woman; this is why Nicolette Sheridan was always, always, ALWAYS film in soft focus on Desperate Housewives (zzzzzing!). So don’t cover it up, lads. A little bit of stubble is fine – in fact, it’s positively marvelous on some, but once it’s at a length that requires combing – that shit needs to go. You know why? Because 9 out of 10 beardos won’t comb it. And that ain’t right.
2. They Are Purveyors of Lies
This is what I’m referring to:
The neckbeard. Only one word can describe this follicular abomination – ewwwwwwwww. Let’s be clear on this – I have nothing against the chunkier male. In fact, I prefer a bit of chubs on a man to a scrawny preying mantis (you heard me, Benedict – we’re never going to happen if you keep eating healthily and exercising regularly). Again, if I Google this word it’s going to come up with pictures of random, overweight strangers, and I’m not going to post pics of non-famous strangers to take the piss out of – but celebs won’t mind if I use them, right? Sorted.
So we’ve established that I’m not dissing the portlier gent. What I’m trying to say here is that the neckbeard is about as subtle as Nicky Minaj’s unsightly, hideous-but-likely-to-be-helpful-in-the-event-of-a-shipwreck-due-to-their-no-doubt-impressive-buoyancy ass-implants . If you’re that ashamed of your chins, there’s something infinitely less gross you could do than sport a neckbeard… you could just sport. Okay, so sport doesn’t work as a verb in that context, but you get my drift, I was talking about losing weight. I’m obviously not someone who can preach to others about getting fit, but all I’m saying is that no-one, and I mean NO-ONE is buying your beard as suitable camouflage for your ‘check’ (that’s my own portmanteau for ‘chin’ and ‘neck’. On reflection, ‘nin’ might have been a better arrangement). The fact that you’ve got stubble that somehow magically balloons out from your chin says to me that you’ve got flesh under there, not an empty space as you’d like us to believe.
3. We Can’t Go On Together With Suspicious Beards
Now before we start, I’m going to refer you back to the beginning of this post where I mentioned religious purposes for having a beard. I say ‘mentioned’, I mean ‘flippantly dismissed the idea that someone who has a beard for a religious or cultural reasons could be left out of my judgement that beards are manky and unnecessary’, but whatever, I do what I want.
You can hide any old shit inside a beard. Most men just hide the bottom half of their face but you know what’s scary? Often, that bottom-half-of-a-face can be combined with a northern facial hemisphere to become the face of a rapist, murderer, paedophile or just general shady-ass character.
But as I was looking for pictures of bearded criminals to point and laugh at in this post, I came across this website and now I feel like maybe I should leave this one and move on…
4. The Tramp Factor
I’m going to cut to the chase on this one. If you have to have a beard, fine; to paraphrase Evelyn Beatrice Hall, I disapprove of what you grow on the bottom of your face, but I will reluctantly defend to the death your right to not shave that shit off. But what I will not defend is the lack of maintenance. No-one needs to see clumpy, scruffy facial hair – it just will not do. It makes you look like a homeless person. Now, when I decided to make this one of the points in this article I decided to look “homeless man with beard” and then thought it would be cruel to post a picture of an actual homeless person; despite being more or less a total bitch in my day to day life, I really care a great deal about the population of homeless people in this country and feel that more could and should be done to help them. So I’m not going to post a picture of some random homeless dude because I actually (somewhere beneath all that visceral fat) have a heart. However, that Google search I just mentioned threw up an unusual result halfway down the page:
I don’t think I need to say anymore.
5. The Twits.
Yeah. If you didn’t see this coming, then you didn’t have a childhood filled with awesome Roald Dahl books, but that’s your problem really and you should talk to your parents about why they didn’t love you enough to take you to the library every once in a while.
In Roald Dahl’s classic story ‘The Twits’ we meet Mr Twit and his wife. Now, she’s a ball of crazy in and of herself but for all intents and purposes we’re just going to look at her husband. In my version of their origin story, Mrs Twit hates beards, and so Mr Twit keeps his face nice and smooth and sexy, just for her. Read the post, you’ll see how all that ends up. But I’m going to quote a bunch of lines from that book now, specifically about his stupid-ass beard.
‘But a hairy face is a very different matter. Things cling to hairs, especially food. Things like gravy go right in among the hairs and stay there. You and I can wipe our smooth faces with a flannel and we quickly look more or less all right again, but the hairy man cannot do that.‘
‘…if you looked closely (not that you’d ever want to) you would see tiny little specks of dried-up scrambled eggs stuck to the hairs, and spinach and tomato ketchup and fish fingers and minced chicken livers and all the other disgusting things Mr Twit liked to eat.‘
‘If you looked closer still (hold your noses, ladies and gentlemen), if you peered deep into the moustachy bristles sticking out over his upper lip, you would probably see much larger objects that had escaped the wipe of his hand, things that had been there for months and months, like a piece of maggoty green cheese or a mouldy old cornflake or even the slimy tail of a tinned sardine.‘
There’s nothing I love more than wiping gravy off of my smooth face with a flannel, and it makes me blood boil to think that some dirty scumbags are filling up their beards with gravy and fish and all manner of things. Come to think of it, it’s this description that probably sparked off my utter hatred for facial hair. I think moustaches on their own are even worse but there’s no time for me to go into that now. Instead, here’s the only beard – apart from Brian Blessed’s, for that man can do no wrong – that I approve of.