Mark.

Name: Mark
(Beard) Age: 4 months. I shaved after Indonesia last year.
Do you miss your chin? Nope.  
Beard grooming routine: No, I just let it grow.

This is Mark. What a well-travelled and smiley chap he is. That relaxed demeanour actually masks an incredibly awkward scene whereby Mark’s amigo asked if I’d like his picture too. I’m afraid I didn’t and told him so. Yes, he had a bit of beard stuff going on although his visage portrayed a lack of commitment to the cause. But actually, the thing which offended me most was that he was wearing a t-shirt with a large moustache on it. Moustaches! Now that’s a lowly fetish.

Mads.

Name: Mads
(Beard) Age: The beard is a year old, but I’ve shortened it for the heat.
Do you miss your chin? Not at all. In fact, it’s better to not have it. There isn’t anything wrong with my chin, you can just create a better shape with a beard. 
Beard grooming routine: I have three rules. 1. Symmetry on the sides. 2. It’s nice to get a 90 degree angle under the chin. 3. Never should it stick out further than your nose.

Imagine if you will: you’re sat eating roast capsicum infused humus when a beard so  noble strolls past that you choke on your rice cake. Fortunately for the Daily Beard, it wasn’t the death knoll and I got to have a chat with this wonderful Dane, fresh off the boat from Copenhagen. Mads and I didn’t actually discuss his mode of transport into the country, because we didn’t need to. That beard not only fits the face of a man who got off a boat, but one who rowed that boat from his native land. Mad-props to Mads’ beard etiquette, he’s the first grower to comb his chinwares before the shoot. Not so mad-props for me forgetting everything my YouTube tutorial taught me about taking someone’s picture. Excuse the blurriness, I was giddy.

A few minutes later Mads and I met again – the intrepid explorer returned for some Melbourne tips cementing our belief that beards form social bonds. I’ve got a beady eye and noting Mads’ trendy watch, I sent him off into Fat. But Mads, I want you to know, there’s nothing in Melbourne’s shops so cool as that face-rug you grew yourself.