The "back, sack and crack" was the last straw. Any trend dictating the forcible removable of hair from the nether regions of men couldn't last long, thank God.

And now this blasted recession has kicked into full gear, facials, manicures, pedicures and waxing are all luxuries men can afford to do without.

So, it's high time blokes vacated the salons and returned to the barber shops, where they belong. We need to get back in touch with our masculine side, and return to a time when the ultimate celebration of masculinity was simply a good old-fashioned shave.

Kicking back in the barber's chair in Knights of the Green, I quickly realise men have been pampered for so long, the thought of someone armed with a cut-throat razor approaching them is enough to fill the most hardened amongst us with trepidation.

However, once the smooth hands of shaver-in-chief, Valentyna Pryyomska, start massaging your beard you can be guaranteed one thing -- your shoulders will relax, your eyes will close and you will be tempted into a deep, deep sleep.

However, since I was a "hot towel shave virgin", as I closed my eyes all I could imagine was all the women I have ever wronged waiting in line to get their mitts on the naked blade at hand, and squeezing it tightly to my neck.

But, as Valentyna softened my stubble with her nimble fingers, my mind drifted to thoughts of the impending death of the metrosexual.

The term made its first appearance in the article Here Come the Mirror Men written by British journalist Mark Simpson. The poster boy for this new movement was, of course, one David Beckham. At the height of his career he was careening around in sarongs, painting his nails and hanging out in hair salons to get those oh-so-perfect highlights. Thankfully, he buggered off to America a long time ago.

The next step in the scared-shaving ritual arrives as the hot towel is wrapped around my face, and I get to wondering if men have gotten a little too much in touch with their feminine side. What happened to real men?

The uncomplicated bloke whose sole focus is on the important things in life -- sex, beer and sport. The blokes who don't mind being a bit hairy and showing a little paunch. The men whose minds are pools of calm and certainty, while the females around them drown in seas of anxiety.

As the shaving oil is gently massaged into my face, just before Valentyna gets the badger-hair shaving brush ready to coat my whiskers with a creamy lather, I am thankful for the alpha males who are helping men rediscover what it is to be a man.

You wouldn't catch George Clooney getting his eyebrows plucked, his chest waxed or peroxide highlights in his hair. And just imagine the consequences of getting out the wax strips and asking Roy Keane to bend over.

With my face soothed and soft, the blade flickers across my face, each stroke taming my inner Grizzly Adams. A hot towel, cold towel, some moisturiser and a slap of aftershave and the ritual is complete. I am reborn. I am a man. Back, sack and crack? My arse.

- John Costello