This morning, the bathroom mirror informed me that I had a moustache. ‘Yeah, you’ve got a moustache, man. You’ve had it for ages,’ it said. Eeeew. I haven’t noticed people sneaking glances at my upper lip mid-chat. But there it was. They must’ve been wrestling their instincts to the ground: ‘Look at her moustache!’ ‘I’m not looking, you mean bastard.’…… Continue reading Why didn’t you tell me I had a moustache?