Carol’s Column

Making ‘mincemeat’ of a potentially useful asset

If somebody asked you how long you think a man's beard would grow if left totally wild from the moment of growth - the beard's - to the moment of its owner's demise, you'd probably say about a metre or two.

That's what I thought, which is why I was astonished to read that if the average man left his hirsute fleece to its own end it would grow to a hearty length of 8,2m. For those who still haven't mastered the metric system, this is an old-fashioned 27ft. Now that's long.

It is wider than parts of Jan Smuts Avenue, a lot higher than the floor-to-ceiling measurement of an ordinary room and longer than two cars parked bumper to bumper.

I read this information in The Economist, a magazine filled with such esoteric and other facts.

You probably also didn't know that the average man has 15 000 hair bristles spouting from just his chin alone. If you combine his cheeks and upper lip areas, you could probably add at least 5000 more bristles. Of course, there are those with more whiskers, think of Fidel Castro, and those with less, as for example Woody Allen.

The story in question was about a new super razor just invented by scientists which will make the life of men who shave their facial fuzz much easier.

The article reported that, while attacking their beards, men scrape their faces up to 700 times per shave. Which is a lot of wrist action. And that's before the day's really started. In other words, every clean-shaven adult man you're looking at around you scrapes his face at least 4 900 times a week and 255 500 times a year.

The new hi-tech razor launched after 15 years and R3,6-billion worth of research has three ultra-thin spring-tipped blades toughened with diamond-like carbon bonded to steel with niobium, an expensive alloying element.

At its launch in Boston, USA, enthusiasts of the razor announced that each stroke of the blades shaved off up to 40% more stubble than any other razor (including the company's own well-known brands). Statisticians worked out that 40 million working American males could save a minute a day this way, which would add up to seven million working days a year.

That's assuming that men who knock a minute off their shaving wouldn't find another leisurely alternative such as increasing sedentary ablution time or having an extra cup of coffee at breakfast.

Checks in the local reference library revealed that Sergei Smzenko who hailed from a remote region of Siberia, was reputedly 138 years old when he died and, what is of greater interest, his beard was 10,8m long. When buried, it was wound around his corpse 83 times, obviating the need for a funeral shroud.

I mentioned these facts to my husband the other night as we lay shivering in bed for it was an unexpectedly cold night.

"I have a sleeping resource," I said.

"I know," he replied. "It's tired and so am I. And," he added, "I have a headache."

"No, no, I was talking about your beard," I clarified hastily.

"My beard?"

"If you’d never shaved, your beard would now be about 8,5m long," I pointed out. "What’s more, we could right now be using it as a blanket."

"You’re mad," he exclaimed, shut his eyes, sucked in his nostrils and soon the 15 000 bursting-forth bristles upon his chins began to quiver as he gently slept.

Amazing. More than R3,5-billion spent over years to perfect a machine which will more speedily deplete a man of a potentially useful asset? Crazy.

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