Home in Wicklow for a little while earlier I decided that I could no longer tolerate my own level of mankiness and went for a shower. I looked in the mirror and marvelled at how wild and unkempt my wild and unkempt beard has become. Then I picked up a hairbrush (I don't own one) and slicked back my ever-growing hair. I resisted the temptation to ape Ron Burgundy's famous cry of "Hey everyone, come see how good my hair looks!" and wandered out into the hallway in some grotty boxers, in search of clean socks and, perhaps, a muffin.
"You look like Porno-Rasputin," laughed my brother.
Which hurt a lot, as I'd been aiming for Porno-David Koresh.