Steve King, is a Men’s Grooming Expert, broadcaster and journalist. He is a former editor of Men’s Health Magazine, as well as numerous women’s magazines. He was also the resident expert on Channel 4’s Richard & Judy Show and wrote fashion and grooming columns in both The Sunday Express and The Mail on Sunday.

He is the foster parent to three children, aged 14, nine and five-years-old and is a true believer that women are not the only ones who need a helping hand in the “looking their best” department.

Steve is a grooming guru to be reckoned with and will stop at nothing to help turn the nation’s men into “Dishy Daddies!”

(Follow him on Twitter too – he now has more than 280,000 followers – check out why… TWITTER @findstevek)

Hope this finds you well? Here at King Towers or rather Shameless HQ as it’s become known we’re in the middle of moving! I could end my column there because I’m sure you all know the hell that entails. Add into the mix, three excited children and a dog who has no idea why the house is suddenly filled with 3000 boxes and you’re slowly getting the picture. Utter chaos.

imagesNow I am normally “Mr Organised” and I hate anything not being planned. Needless to say, Day Two into the packing schedule and everything went to pot. I hadn’t counted on the 3 tons of assorted children’s toys which seemed to fill our double garage. The back garden resembled a fire sale at Toys “R” Us…

And that was before I managed (wearing breathing apparatus and a hazmat suit) to gain access to the back of the garage. Who knew I’d discover boxes still packed from three moves ago when we left in London. There is nothing like clocking up 1000 miles on your car in trips to the local dump.

It got so bad that all of the local charity shops have asked me to stay away. I thought it was almost impossible to get an ASBO for doing your bit, but it seems our overfill has overfilled all of our charity shops stockrooms. I mean, I’ve been asked or rather told to leave a number of establishments in my years, but never a charity shop. The shame.

Of course the children love packing. Note to all parents out there. Never let a 14-year-old girl and her nine-year-old sister do their own packing. Let’s just say it would’ve been easier if I had given the task to our five-year-old. It was definitely a time of extremes. Some of their boxes were so heavy that I would needed to have hired a crane to hoist them from their bedrooms while others contained only a few scraps of “precious” paper!

Those of you who avidly follow my column, will know of all the disasters I encountered in hanging the flatscreen televisions on to the children’s walls. Who knew two years later I’d be removing them and then having to fill in all the holes including the ones I’d hidden with the TV. It just keeps on getting better.

imgresOn a positive note, the new place is going to be fab. It has a playroom. A PLAYROOM! Who needs ensuite bathrooms and Jacuzzi baths, when you can have a room into which you can chuck all the children’s toys and close the door. My theory is the rest of the house will remain neat, tidy and ordered. My Zen-like Japanese thinking and clean lines will once again be restored.

I suppose, I do have a phobia about moving. It all stems from when we moved from our penthouse apartment in London. The only way to get the custom-built sofa into the removal van was to actually hire a crane and have the sofa, all three parts, lowered the eight stories to the ground.

I have to say the process went incredibly well until, the third and final piece. I think everyone became a little cocky at the ease at which the monster was lowered over the precipice to the ground. So by the time the final vital corner-piece was hitched up to the hook and hoisted over the edge, no one was really that interested. Of course, that’s when it all went horribly wrong. The crane operator, had gained in confidence, and now swung the last piece of the puzzle quicker than the other two. The result was that the corner-piece slipped out off the hook and crashed six stories to the car park below, shattering into a mangled mess. It left me scarred. And with a useless two parts sofa.

On the upside it was an excuse to go sofa shopping. So there is always a positive side I guess. And talking of shopping…

boxesAnd – stop press – I finally succumbed to Lidil. Okay, I was a little late out the gate. But I felt so totally left out of the playground conversations. My position has been fully restored thanks to the help of my journalistic memory and being able to quote the price of fresh mangoes, ostrich fillets and diced wild boar. I have to say we are totally converted and I am loving the amount of money it is And no, before you ask, I’m not one of those people who loads up the cut-price shopping into Waitrose bags for their arrival at home.
The only negative I have to say about shopping at L is the speed at which the goods are processed through the checkout. I know it’s volume sales and they have to operate quickly but it is like watching the conveyor belt section of the old TV show The Generation Game on fast forward.

Seriously, the space after the till is about the same size as a large frying pan and the speed at which the operator scan the barcode is frightening. If they moved my full fat milk any quicker. It would turn to butter!

Now, as much as I’d like to sit here chatting to you. I have things to do. My next task it’s to alphabetise my assorted spices and herbs

Until next Time, when I will be speaking to you from a vastly improved and bigger King Towers. Stay safe, be good and above all else, don’t move house!