FOR MANY MEN shaving is a relentless chore that takes up too much of the day's precious time.Sometimes it can reach a point where a man says to hell with it, and unleashes his beard to spurt freely from the edge of his chin. Just for the feel of something different.

If you study him closely, after two or three days of stubble growth he may have developed a swagger and a touch of the John Wayne growl. Loving his moodier and broodier image. By the end of a fortnight however, stubble stretches into hair and hair can become unruly. So much so that a man can very easily start to resemble a Russian sailor. Or a 21st-century Desperate Dan.

I reached the two-week mark of not shaving recently and decided that rather than inflict three or four blades worth of excrutiating pain on my skin, I would treat myself to a hot towel shave.

Down I went to the Turkish barbers on the main street and sat myself into the chair. My host had limited English so I just left matters in his hands. In hindsight, trusting a stranger as he presses an open blade to your throat might not seem the wisest thing to do, but I closed my eyes and reminded myself that Sweeney Todd was just a fictional character. Finding reassurance from the passing faces peeking in through the window.

Having a hot towel shave is a therapeutic experience. When he slaps the steaming cloth over your face, each one of your facial pores swings open its doors and steps out to embrace the sunshine. Not only does your skin run a snooker ball close for smoothness afterwards, but this particular barber also threw in a back massage. I felt muscles creak and groan that I had long forgotten existed.

Partaking in the experience during lunchtime left me light-headed however, as I ventured back out onto the busy streets. It's not everyday a man returns to his workdesk feeling so refreshed. Albeit with a strange craving for a cigar.

So ladies, with the week that's in it and Cupid flying about shooting arrows into our thumping hearts, there are worse things you could do than treat your man to a half hour of being pampered. At twenty quid a slash, it shouldn't break the bank either. And for once it would be in your own hands to ensure that it's not like kissing a brillo pad, come the most amorous night of the year.

BINGO IS HIS NAME-O

Having heard so much about Bingo the Humpback Whale entertaining the crowds off the Hook Head coastline recently, we loaded up our harpoons (not really) and headed southwards at the weekend.

We spent a good hour sitting on the rocks waiting for the him to pop up and give us a splash but like the other hundred-odd visitors chattering about in the fresh February breeze, we had nothing exciting to report. Bingo was too aware of his surroundings and had no intentions of pleasing this full house.

But what a boost for the area in the traditionally deserted days of late winter and early spring. Which lead us to think that the Minister for Tourism should introduce a few more characters to the various tourist locations around the country, that need to draw in a few more bodies. A killer shark here, an octopus there. Or perhaps the odd unicorn.

After all, an upright carrot on a horse's nose would be just as fathomable as Munster folk seeing religious apparitions in a decapitated tree.

'BASTERD' UP FOR OSCAR

Oscar time is looming and Christoph Waltz has been nominated for a Best Supporting Actor gong for his role as Col. Hans Landa in 'Inglourious Basterds'.

If you can get a decent price from Paddy Power, get the cash down on him as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, if you're looking for a film to rent this weekend then this one should top your list. Mr. Tarantino back to his best.

- SHEA tomkins