The Beards' Tour Diary Part Four

NEW SOUTH WALES
Wednesday 24 to Saturday 27 November

We've just finished week four of The End Of The World (for beardless people) Tour. Last week we found ourselves in New South Wales with gigs in Newcastle, Wollongong, Katoomba and Toukley. The focus of my diary entry for this week will be on an encounter I had with a fan in Wollongong. For privacy reasons I cannot disclose her name, so for the benefit of the story I shall refer to her as, Gertrude.

I was speaking with our bearded merchandise man Luke, when I noticed a woman staring at me intently. As she didn't have a beard I paid her no mind, however she stared on, undeterred by my obvious snub. After Luke and I embraced for a few minutes I turned to go backstage when the beardless woman intercepted me. Gertrude “was” her name. In a long, boring story I paid little attention to, Gertrude told me what a fan of The Beards she was. She went on and on about how she'd supported us for years and loved me and my guitar prowess. I was doing my best not to look directly at her stupid, beardless face when Gertrude got my attention. She showed me a poster she had made for me and said she'd do anything for me in the bedroom – anything!

When I asked if she'd wear a beard, she agreed and the courting began.

I took her back to my hotel room, put on some Julio Iglesias and ordered a couple of Mojitos on room service – sure, she said I was already in, but a bearded man is still a gentleman. It was upon watching Gertrude sip her second Mojito through her fake beard that I could control my urges no longer. After sharing one and a half minutes of intense passion we fell asleep arm in arm, beard to beard.

Unfortunately due to my super-human, bearded fertility I had unknowingly inseminated Gertrude. I had used protection but alas, anything short of a titanium prophylactic has no chance against the viscosity of my herculean ejaculate. Moreover, the prodigious taddies gestated overnight and we awoke to find a ginger-bearded infant lying happily between Gertrude's legs. Whilst I in no way desire to have children, I wasn't going to allow this beardless woman to raise a child. I quickly dressed and told Gertrude I'd meet her at a café close by – I lied. I have stolen this child from her for the greater good for the child's future and society at large.

I have been fastidiously feeding the child chicken and cider in the hours before midnight and being careful not to get him wet. My main hope is that there are crèche's and ball-pits in the venues we play for the remainder of the tour.