Looking back it is tough to believe that this is the fifth installment of comedy facial hair. I find it truly amazing that over the last 8 months I have had over 30 different beards and moustaches - that works out at more than one every week. I'm really not sure if many more are technically possible without me miraculous developing some kind of artistic talent with a cutthroat.

On the subject of the cutthroat razor, I still haven't managed to master the infernal thing. Barbara has become used to me returning to our room, large wads of blood soaked toilet paper stuck to my face. Occasionally it all starts well and I remark to myself how close a shave it is giving me, then it's "Damn, Damn Damn," as I feel a nick. But no blood appears, maybe I didn't cut myself at all. Then the first speck of blood wells. I splash water at it hoping it will go away and soon the sink is rusty with my blood. Toilet paper clots it up nicely but in a crowded hostel it's not as if you can keep it a secret.

For those of you worried that this theme has reached its logical end, you need not worry. There is a further installment already prepared, just ready for publication, including some ludicrous sideburns.