Nose hair

From Frikipedia

Tragic portent of the ageing process in men and hormonally-unbalanced women. Once you begin to see the first tufts begin to sprout from each nostril, like a small weed in a stagnant nasal garden, you become aware that you have entered the slippery slope towards baldness, arthritis and eventual death.

The worst decision is what to do with them. Essentially, there are three options.

• Leave them there. Attempt to fashion a rudimentary Charlie Chaplin style moustache.
• Pluck them. Sounds simple enough, but each tiny protruding hair is actually connected by a long strand that runs through your skull directly to the centre of your brain. You confidently pluck the first one, only to collapse to the floor in agony, as your entire life flashes before your eyes.
• Buy a trimmer from Argos. These all look like some form of sex aid but have the destructive power of Freddy Krueger on a sugar high.

Friki Fact

Tragically, Friki has come to this particular crossroads in its life, and went for option 3 (via a painful interlude in option 2). Having bought the trimmers, however, Friki is too scared to use them, given the long list of potentially fatal injuries the fast moving blades can administer if the instruction booklet is to be believed. Friki would rather look like it has two small insects attempting to escape from its nose than potentially slip and trim a borehole directly into its brain.

Actually, who is Friki kidding? Pass the trimmers.