Baldies have never had it so good

Yet bald persons themselves remain unhappy with their cranial state and are paying thousands of pounds to have follicles crocheted into their heads. In Scotland, according to that Herald newspaper, the number of hair transplants quadrupled last year.

Footballers have led the way, with the likes of James McFadden, Anthony Stokes and Leigh Griffiths sporting new heads. But, arguably, there's more to life than football, and Fleet Industrial Estate newspapers were reporting this week that broadcaster Andrew Marr appeared to have acquired more - or at least thicker - hair.

Subsequently, he told a packed emergency press conference at the House of Commons that the phenomenon had been caused by a change of shampoo.

This is madness. Baldness no longer has the stigma that once stuck to it like a badly glued wig. True, in parts of the Scottish Borders today, bald people still cannot stand for election and, in the city of Aberdeen, while bald persons may drive vehicles they have to wear a hat while doing so.

There's a long history of this sort of thing. Bald people were first brought to Britain by the Romans, who used them instead of horses, thus leading to many military victories.

In 1342, King David II instituted a tax on "ye baldie poltroonis"and, as recently as the 1950s, it was not unusual to see adverts for rented accommodation accompanied by the words: "No baldies need apply." I can remember being at a footer match in the early 1970s when the Hibernian support mercilessly taunted Falkirk's right-back with cries of "Baldie! Baldie!", causing him eventually to lose the rag and nearly burst into tears.

It was despicable behaviour and I remain proud of it today. Speaking of today, bald people are now everywhere, including in shops and other public places. I almost envy them.

People think it's easy for men having hair, but it's not, and I'm sick of it. Some people have a bad hair day. I have a bad hair life. Well, that's not quite true. I was never happier than when my hair remained uncut. It was clean, healthy and never a problem.

Now, it's the bane of my existence. You can see it too in top personalities - as opposed to me, a bottom personality, which is not the expression I want, but time marches on - such as Gordon Brewer of television current affairs fame and that bloke who presents Match of the Day Two.

Like me, they've too much hair on top and I have watched, with sympathy, as they try all the things I've attempted to stop it going bouffant: brushing it back, scrunching it, loading it with gel. Nothing works.

I stand in solidarity with them. At least they haven't succumbed to the buzz-cut, symbol of a society where life is nasty, brutish and short-haired. But they'll know that, if they leave their hair uncut more than four weeks, the bouffancerie sets in.

You can tell when this has happened by the titters. We have raised a younger generation of titterers. You arrive at the mall after the wind has made hay with your hairdo, and you notice the ghost of an involuntary smile on the face of the first short-haired young person you meet. And the next. And the next.

And you think: "Aw jeez. It's away again, isn't it?" To the young person, such hair is as funny as a handlebar moustache was to us.

But what happened to us? Our hair never used to be like this. It's today's haircuts, particularly in Britain. You notice foreign footerists arriving on these shores with admirable manes. But, within months, they've been got at by British barbers and either have it too short, like Jose Mourinho, or bouffant, like that Brazilian bloke who plays for Liverpool and never kicks the ball.

But, every five weeks or so, we still go back to the barbers, hoping they'll come up with something different. In vain.

No one is saying we should go as far as Scandinavia, where all employees get two weeks off work after a haircut. But folk should show more pity towards men with hair.

As for bald citizens, I say this unto you: you've never had it so good. Just be grateful you're not prey to fickle follicles.