King of Shaves shaving oil is the best thing I have ever rubbed into my face, ever. It’s just amazing. It has gone a long way to solving most, if not all, of my shaving problems. This is mainly because you don’t have to mess around with that infernal shaving gel/foam. The shaving oil is (as the word ‘oil’ suggests) … oil! (Spot the deliberate tautology!)

Basically, you rub 3-5 drops into your stubble. Then you wait for 30 seconds. Then you shave. Then you do a little dance at how amazing the whole experience is. It’s odd at first because you’re not removing any foam, but after a while you suddenly realise that you are slap-bang in the middle of a miracle. An actual, God-is-interfering-with-the-laws-of-the-Universe-again miracle. It’s just so nice to be able to see what you’re doing!

It comes in a little bottle, maybe about 10 cm tall, and there’s only 15ml of it but that’s enough to last a few months. And it’s only about £6!

Shaving has long been a bugbear of mine (check it out!). I have always assumed that I had been given a special dispensation for just cutting my face to pieces and that there was nothing I could do about it. And I’m not joking here, I am rarely able to shave without coming away with another couple of scars.

This morning just about pushed me over the edge, however. I usually accumulate wounds on my chin, but today I managed to move the razor blade sideways, instead of downwards, which had the effect of giving me two, long, exactly parallel incisions just under my nose. It was surprisingly painless actually, and in all honesty I’m quite pleased since my friend did a similar thing and has a particularly nice scar that I’ve always envied, but it was clear that, no matter how nice the scar might be, this is no way to start the morning off. I simply can’t go on lacerating my face like this. For one thing, I’ve lost enough blood!

As it happens, the solution is quite simple. I just have to stop pushing so hard. That’s really it, I can’t believe it’s that easy. From now on, instead of wielding the razor blade like a knife, sword, lawnmower and dragging it down the side of my head like there’s no tomorrow, I am simply going to hold it lightly between finger and thumb and gently pull it across my skin. I found that that method is actually more effective at removing hair, plus it means that razor burn is a thing of the past.

How can it have taken me so long to discover this?!

I am sick of having to shave, I really am. It is unfortunate that my facial hair is so utterly pathetic — growing, as it does, almost exclusively on my chin and in two patches on my upper lip. Otherwise, I might consider growing a beard and giving up shaving for good.

It is such a pain to have to mess around with bits of shaving foam and razor blades, and having to look in a mirror which remains cloudy to the point of uselessness. One thing I will not put up with is cutting myself when shaving. I am really truly sick of that. My attitude of late has been, “if my skin is stupid enough to grow something that sticks out, it’s got no-one to blame but itself if it gets shaved off”.

My skin retaliates by bleeding copiously, for hours it seems, all over any item of white clothing in the vicinity.

Getting out of bed has long been an arch-nemesis of mine. Is it just me, or does everyone feel like the undead when they manage, finally, to drag themselves from under the warm sanctuary of the duvet?

As if this horrible shock isn’t bad enough, you then have to go through further indignities before you can put it all behind you and get on with the day.

For instance, Chris Moyles. The radio wakes me up in the morning, and it is his voice which I hear first in the day. This really has to change! I’m thinking murderous thoughts anyway, towards all around me, but they converge particularly strongly on him. Worse is when he’s off for whatever reason, and they let that monkey Scott Mills out of his cage. He really ought to have been shot to protect the nation’s sanity a long time ago.

Next you have to go through the whole bathroom ritual. If it’s free, there is no hot water, and if there is, you have to shave. Shave! I hate shaving! It takes so long and the mirror is always misted up so you can’t see what you’re doing. Plus the razor goes from sharp to blunt over the course of a second, so you end up pushing harder then cutting yourself, and faces bleed for an eternity!

Once that is over you have to face breakfast. My stomach normally refuses, pointblank, to be fed in the morning, so I can only ever manage a banana. And have you noticed about bananas that eating them is ridiculous? If you chew them, they put up all the resistance of a wet paper towel so you feel a complete fool chewing the air, but if you try to swallow them whole, they become bricks in your throat.

And then you have to talk to people with your voice and brain — neither of which are working yet, so you sound like a crazed madman.

Still, I’ve just looked up and seen a rainbow, so maybe I should have hope.

Right, our boiler is completely stupid and useless, and I hate it. At the beginning of last term, I noticed that the house was making creaking noises as if it was a ship. We’d just had it fixed, and the flame was really high and the water scorching, so I put it down to things just settling in or something. Anyway, the creaking never stopped, so I always have the feeling that the house is about to explode every time someone turns a hot tap on.

Recently, it has added singing to its repertoire of disconcerting noises. It makes these long, drawn out noises that last for maybe ten or fifteen seconds. They sound like whalesong. It would be eerie if the boiler wasn’t so bloody stupid. Take this morning, for example: I tried to shave, but absolutely no hot water, despite all the creaking and bansheeing that it seems to be doing. I really wouldn’t be surprised if it did explode.

People that know me may have noticed that I have two moles on my right cheek.

Well not any more!

This morning I managed to shave one right off. It doesn’t hurt, but it is bleeding copiously.

I think I’ve found a new meaning for the word “shaving’. I discovered it this morning, and I will be submitting my findings to the Oxford Concise English Dictionary people.

Shaving

v. to re-open old wounds