‘It’s called football, not soccer.’
‘Do you have any gluten free craft beers?’
‘Might be a cold one, better bring my cardigan.’
‘He’s a French bulldog, not a pug.’
‘Do you think the beans are fair trade?’
‘Wanna hit the farmers market for brunch?’
‘Fuck yeah, lads night!’
What is all that shit up there? Well while it may at first look like the result of someone stabbing at a newspaper in the dark with a highlighter then chaining the found words into possibly legible sentences, it is in actual fact a short list of real, proper, ‘I’ve heard these before’ phrases.
And what do all of these phrases have in common?
Majority of the time, you will find that these are pretentiously uttered into existence by a chap with a “Man-bun”. And a superiority complex.
Yes, the man bun. A hairstyle that has experienced a fall from grace worse than Mel Gibson after he called Winona Ryder an “Oven dodger”.
What started as the go to hairstyle of choice of the noble samurai warriors has steadily had the nobility stink-fisted from it by backpacking euro sex pests until finally it landed in the trash pile of human trendiness as an ironically cool, Pokémon-esq final evolutionary form of the Macklemore haircut worn by hipster pricks the globe over. Also baristas. Baristas tend to have man-buns too.
Nothing says ‘I’m going to correct you on the pronunciation of Quinoa quicker than you can ask yourself internally if I’m for real.’ Than a man-bun.
In fact the watered down hive mind personalities of the buns modern day owners have ended up attaching such a smug prick stigma to the hairstyle that it is often referred to as a “Cunt-antenna”.
Well I’m here to help set things straight.
I think that the hairstyle is simply being represented poorly and I honestly believe it’s because people don’t know how to present it properly to its full effect.
So to help all you antenna sporting champs out there, I’m going to throw at you my multi step system to the perfect Man-bun.
Yes, this is really happening.
Don’t lie, this is how shit you look with your hair out. I know I have frizz and curls that don’t help, but you know that without that half bottle of organic Moroccan oil yours would look the same.
Get your fancy de-knotting brush and tackle your bedhead (which used to be cool remember?) till it’s flatter than the average womans libido around you when you’re wearing your hair in that little fucking profiterole.
Pinch up your stupid little tuft into a ponytail, make sure you have the hairband on your fingers ready to go in case you’re in public because someone’s likely to tackle you and stop you from shaming yourself if you take your time. (These people are called “Good Samaritans”.)
The Armstrong and Miller show used to have a skit where two seemingly normal men would be conversing, they’d go to swap contact details and one guy would turn around revealing that he had a ponytail, which would result in his conversational counterpart mumbling ‘Pony tai-‘ before dramatically dry heaving and vomiting all over the place. He would then fan himself and explain to the other guy that he vomited because he had a ponytail. The pony owner would look stunned and hurt but everyone knew that it was a completely rational reaction. The vomiting thing? That’s what everyone’s doing internally when they see your little man-pony.
Now pinch your fingers around the centre of your shameful hair tail then double the band around it and pull up.
Christ I hope you all pay attention to this tutorial, I can’t fucking believe I’m putting pictures of myself on the internet of me with a fucking man-bun.
This step isn’t mandatory but it’s unavoidable. Once your bun is bound you’ll have the undesirable yet undeniable urge to “blue steel” harder than those super high maintenance narcissistic selfie addict bitches on Instagram that look like they’d fuck like half full beanbag chair high on heroin. Try not to let your family or friends see this step.
You done pouting? Good. Get that malnourished arm back up there and return to pinching that bun like you say you pinch pennies by shopping at the salvos but in reality you paid about $150 for that cardigan and I think we both know it didn’t come from the mens section. Look, it still has those long clear elastic band things on them so you can hang it from coat hangers. Ladies coat hangers.
We’re down to the nitty gritty so stay focused. Pay attention here, imagine you’re checking a brunch menu to see which dishes can be made vegan AND gluten free. Grab yourself a good pair of scissors and get ready for the one final step that nobody’s been brave enough to tell you. The final step that’ll return your man-bun to it’s former samurai glory.
CUT! DO IT! DON’T STOP AND THINK, DON’T SLOW DOWN, MASH THE HANDLES TO THOSE SCISSORS HARD AND FAST! IMAGINE YOU’RE YOUR PARENTS CUTTING YOU OUT OF EVERY FAMILY PHOTO THEY’VE TAKEN EVER SINCE YOU GOT THAT STUPID FUCKING HAIRCUT! CUT CUT CUT!
Roar to Valhalla in Viking glory as your testosterone levels return to normal, you immediately gain 10kg of lean muscle mass and your waxed chest explodes with a virile man pelt that emits lush musky pheromones capable of attracting curvy and sexy women instead of those big floppy hat wearing huge sunglasses owning Kate Moss looking girls you’ve been pulling recently when dudes weren’t slipping their numbers into the back pockets of your skinny legs.
Dispose of bun in a sanitary manner.
There we have it kids.
I hope this has been as helpful and entertaining to you as it has been liberating and fun for me to make.
And if anyone’s curious, no. I’m not single.
But I am musky.