Much like Charles Manson, I love having a beard. I'm not talking poncey designer stubble, but a proper face-insulating, cosy cashmere blanket of a beard.
Lets face it, razor adverts lie. Very few of us shave daily in our marble bathrooms, grinning while a hot young thing in her birthday suit strokes our jaw. Shaving is a pain, quite literally. Particularly if your other half has been secretly shaving her legs with your Mach 3 the morning before.
It’s interesting that the longer my beard gets, the more eagerly security guards follow me around. Why is it that facial hair is consistently equated with criminality, crisis, alcoholism, or - if your beard is particularly splendid - all three. This coupled with the fact that I've recently been described as both a Borat-alike and an Iranian terrorist made me curious about the prospect of a fresh, hairless face.
So, with this in mind, I took the initiative and popped into Murdock of Shoreditch for a professional cut-throat shave. This old-skool barbers is based on Old Street and is a real delight for the discerning man. Thomas, the bar manager, steamed my face with hot towels, foamed me up and practiced his cut-throat skills on my throat like a true pro.
Murdock offers a full range of services including moustache and beard trims, wet shaves, beard re-shaping and manicures. So if you’re looking for the ‘best ever real shave' since the Mac 500 turbo injection, get down and get a wet shave. Or, alternatively, check out Esquire's top five home shaving kits here.