I’m buying razor blade refills, not a luxury holiday

Curse your perfect finish

Probably the most painful recurring expense in my life is blade refills. And a good shave is, undoubtedly, one of life’s essentials for any self-respecting man/hermaphrodite – electric razors are a useless waste of time, you’d get a closer shave using paper-cuts.

So you get to the man area of the supermarket, a place you know intimately because of the hideous embarrassment that is buying condoms. So far, your meager food purchases have totalled maybe $17-18. You scan the refill prices.  Wham, $20 for 3 lousy blades, and you’ve blown any hope of leaving the supermarket without limping like the gimp they have forced you to become.

So you think, fuck it, I’ll be hairy for a while, but then you remember your promise to yourself to not be a disgusting lazy bastard any more. So you think, fuck it, I’ve still got a good few days left on my old blade.

You return home, demoralised, whipped. You question your existence as you spoon tartare sauce straight from the bottle.

Later, you spend half an hour softening your stubble before shaving with your 4-month-old Gillette blade. The best you can squeeze out is a 5 o’clock shadow.

You briefly consider turning to the free promotional Bic razor that came in the post, but then you remember the last time you used one of those pieces of shit:

Curse you big name-brand razors, you have us by our perfectly shaved short and curlies (if you’re into that).