Pimp My Beard Round Season 2: Round 1

The Able Mason

Having taken a hiatus from PMB to "rethink himself", Browning returns with this uncompromisingly 3 fingered ( middle finger of left hand, v or "peace sign" on right hand) dismissal of narrow beardedness - the struggle against which, the followers of PMB make their daily toil.

 In typical firebrandish tone, Browning told us, "As PMB has grown, its principles of beardery have disseminated futher and wider and while these have been received gladly onto many a face across the continents, they have also come into conflict with some of the more conservative elements in mainstream beardery. We're told, 'You can't work in a paper mill with a beard like this, you can't come into this supermarket with a beard like that.' People need to be able to see the beard, but also to see beyond it. At PMB we've grown up with the philosophy that a beard is both expression and mask and we've had enough of people saying, 'That's a bricklayer's moustache, oh well, you must be a bricklayer.' Maybe this bricklayer's also a dancer, or a javelin expert. We've got to persevere with beards that teach the obstinately narrow bearded, that this can, and often is the case."

 To promote that message, Browning gives us, The Able Mason. Cult goer by night, wolf whistler by day, this is the art of expecting the unexpected; this is the geometry of biggotry. One fears however, that the subtly of this lesson in beardery may be lost on precisely the narrow bearded conservatives that Browning hopes to reach. Nevertheless, PMB and Browning will fight to the end, "People say you can tell a lot about a man by his beard, well I've decided to wear my beard on my sleeve."



Pimp my Beard Season 2 Round 1:

The Commuter

Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's got the dopest moustache of them all? The answer, yet another of the boisterously bearded young men to be found delivering their portfolios to offices of PMB in recent months, Andrew "The Commuter" Bell. Known to many as the Casanova of the Circle and District, Bell takes A to B travel to unprecedentedly dashing new heights. Personally holding the London Underground Zones 1 and 2 record for most head's turned per journey and rumoured to Banksy's muse, Bell poses for us here in the full splendor of his chosen habitat. Behind the camera, I was witness to a scene that tells the story of the power of this facial finess more aptly than I could ever describe. Mere seconds after clicking shoot on my Sony Cybershot DSC HV7X, an Eastern European lady and her tall friend, attracted by the play of the strip lighting as it's rays danced across Bell's silken tache, looked full on into the beam of his gaze and passed out in pure 1950's cinematic theatre. Naturally, Bell was swiftly across the carriage to fan the assortedly sized ladies with his t-shirt that he had removed with a artful whipping motion. The cool and sweet scented air soon revived the ladies who thanked him in graciously stupefied murmurs before losing consciousness once more. This was beardery at its most smoldering - give him an inch and he'll take your grandmother.

Pimp My Beard is Back! Season 2 Round 1

Judgement Day

Do I smell barbeque? Newcomer to PMB, Jonathan "The Juggernaut" Cartwright, swings into town  exhibiting some decidedly post apocalyptic panache. Disarmingly honest, Cartwright tells us, 'It was an accident! I once saw a young shepherd hand refused a cider at Chesire Inn. The prodigious rascal reappeared some minutes later with a highly relaxed caterpillar slung from his top lip designed, no doubt, to give himself the impression of being an older, more beardly endowed chap. He was immediately spotted for an imposter and duly sent packing. To this day, I have been struck by both his impish initiative and by how on earth he contrived to balance the creature, danglingly lazily from his lip, whilst matter of factly inquiring about the cellar temperature of the cider.  This was precisely the moustachioed impudence I hoped to recreate when given my bow on PMB. Imagine my disbelief when my quivering travel mirror revealed that I had unwittingly inscribed armageddon around my mouth and chin!'
   Indeed, anyone familiar with the work of Liv Tyler will no doubt understand the duel horrors of having their feuding father and finacee in space, battling against an asteroid on a collision course with earth, soon to herald the end of days. Portraying this on screen was a remarkable achievement. But reproducing such biblical foreboding's on one's face, albeit coincidentally, takes balls. Juggernaut, we, the humble folk of PMB, salute you.