Because you're worth it

Whilst watching her televisual device earlier this afternoon - the weather being far too warm for her to consider any more strenuous activities - Lady Bracknell was jerked from her recumbent posture by an advertisement for men's "grooming" products from L'Oreal.

The advertisment begins with a patronising, pseudo-scientific voice-over which attempts to browbeat men into the conviction that what they consider to be attractive "expression lines", women view with horror and disgust as "ugly wrinkles".

Rather unsurprisingly, L'Oreal counters across the developed world are packed to bursting with products which they claim will rid their male customers of these troubling disfigurements.

There is so much scope for vituperative outpourings here that Lady Bracknell is at something of a loss as to quite where to begin. But one must start somewhere.

Firstly, Lady Bracknell objects in the strongest possible terms to being portrayed as considering lines (on the face of a person of either gender) to be "ugly wrinkles". It matters not a fig to her ladyship how many advertising campaigns and magazine articles trumpet the superiority of a youthful appearance: she is not now, and never will be, persuaded. As with the desirability of hot weather, this is a matter of opinion, not of fact. To endeavour to present opinion as incontrovertible scientific fact is neither big nor clever, and advertisers will have to get up a lot earlier in the morning than they do currently if they are to have any hope of hoodwinking elderly, aristocratic ladies who pride themselves on having reached their own independent conclusions on such matters based on a combination of observation and rational thinking.

It has long been Lady Bracknell's belief that a youthful face is somewhat akin to a porcelain mask, in that, in repose, it gives away very little of the character of its owner. Once lines have started to form (and this is, after all, an entirely natural concomitant of the ageing process), the individual's character and temperament become delineated for all to see. In persons of a sour and embittered frame of mind, it is true that these lines are unlikely to have an attractive appearance. But they are merely the visible reflection of the person behind the face: they are not themselves at fault.

There is, in Lady Bracknell's personal opinion, no single physical feature which has more sex appeal than laughter lines. The deeper those lines are, the better she will be pleased. The very idea that anyone (again, of either gender) would deliberately attempt to disguise or obliterate such lines is beyond Lady Bracknell's comprehension.

Secondly, one of the products featured in the L'Oreal advertisement is called "Anti-Expression Cream". Surely Lady Bracknell cannot be the only person who is horrified at the suggestion that facial expressions ought to be eradicated in what is very probably, in any event, an entirely futile attempt to prolong a semblance of youth? Our faces are intended to be mobile. That is why they are underpinned with such complex musculature. And that is also why the rigid forehead of the botox victim looks so unnatural: we expect people's eyebrows to move. (Lady Bracknell has for many years wished that she had the ability to raise one sardonic eyebrow: unfortunately, she appears not to have been gifted with the appropriate gene. She can, however, curl her lip in disdain. Which accomplishment, she supposes, is not to be sneered at.)

How would Lady Bracknell advise men to increase their attractiveness to women?

Well, in the first place, she considers happiness in one's own skin to be of greater importance than any attempts to artificially increase one's attractiveness quotient to the opposite sex. But, assuming that the gentleman in question is happy in himself (and taking as a given the assumption that he has mastered the basics of personal hygiene), he would do far better, in Lady Bracknell's estimation, to work on his integrity, compassion and unselfishness than to stand in front of his mirror every morning rubbing over-priced emollients of dubious provenance into his face in an attempt to appear young.

Unless, of course, he is a man of middle years who is attempting to ingratiate himself with nubile but vapid young women who are only interested in his money. In which case, he is a) the architect of his own demise; b) an object of ridicule; and, c) beyond help.