Little Hairy-Harry took out his little pocket mirror and examined his reflection.
‘Aaaaarrg!’
A hair. A teeny-tiny, wispy, puny hair had sprouted on his chin. Impossible! I can’t grow hairs. I am a hair!
His skin was also covered with little black thingies. His complexion, formerly so perfect, so smooth, was now lacking in sheen, utterly void of radiance.
He looked dull, drab and messy.
Little Hairy-Harry took things into hand and after a good, sound purifying scrub, his number one clay masque and a new hydrating masque with oxygen-rich active liposomes, he felt a heck of a lot better. Clean, as it were.
He retrieved his little mirror and examined his tiny hair. Well, now, what to do... epilation? Tweezers? The razor? The laser? A multitude of solutions came to him, but as Top Secret Agent, he would need to select the most avant-garde.
Little Hairy-Harry fell asleep, dreaming about the future of his chin hair. 
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