It's about moisturiser, apparently.
It's not about beards, new glasses or 'matte paste' for your hair. All these things might, just, explain why the ladies of the Axe may have gathered round to help with my current marital predicament. But no.
With the asbestos on my current project, which has caused me to to keep the noble 'Sloman Jaw' unencumbered by the snuggly facial hair so familiar of the last two decades (well, almost), my smooth, and it has to be said, slightly jowly features, have been gracing the bar at the Axe & Compass for the last two months. Apparently, I now look 'Ten Years Younger.'
No surgery has been involved in this new stunning look. No anaesthetists, surgeons, nurses or green suited porters have been attached to my well-being for the last forty-eight hours. I have been allowed home after just a few pints of Black Sheep - but I am now an amazingly ten years younger than when I entered the pub a few months ago. There are no facial swellings. There is no bruising. I am allowed to drive my car and, if they are available to me, then sexual relations are allowed.
My Christmas Presents included Very Expensive (and the capitals are important here...) moisturisers to smooth my newly shaven cheeks, neck and any other parts of my body that might be displaying signs of stress in this modern world in which we live, so that once more they are transmogrified back to the state of my youth.
It must have worked, as Chicken Dave tonight remarked how youthful I am now looking.