It often troubled me about what's happened to the men in our society. Or rather, what'd happened to me.
There I was sitting in my pyjamas, trying desperately to write something brilliant whilst wiping Doritos dust from my hands; when a though occurred to me.
"God," I thought "I'd be whipped to death by the Victorians. To their men, I'm like a massive manchild." It didn't happen exactly like that, there were more swear words but that was the general gist of it. But it was sort of true. What was I to those men of action, with their proud manners and finely waxed moustaches? Why couldn't I be just like them?
So I thought I might as well be.
This blog is the product of that wish: To apply the old tenets to modern times and become a modern-day gentleman. Through this possibly traumatic experience I will be accompanied by my best friend Trumbull, who I've roped in. By the end of it (if there is an end) we'll either be truly upstanding human beings or quivering, broken piles of man. We'll be traversing love, fashion and altering just about every facet of our being in our solemn quest, with nothing but our own fortitude and a good cup of tea now and again.
What's the worst that could go wrong?