THERE has been a lot of chatter about a correlation between facial hair trends and the economy. The theory is that when the markets plummet, there is a rise in the number of men sporting beards ranging from a smattering of stubble to full-on Grizzly Adams-style growth.

Whether you buy into that hypothesis or not, there is something even more peculiar going on. Apparently the half beard is a thing now. This is a phenomenon which does exactly what it says on the tin: one side of the face is clean-shaven and the other side is roost to a beard.

Among the trendsetters in this ilk is Italian athlete Gianmarco Tamberi. Now Tamberi is a pretty decent high-jumper, but that's not the only reason he's been garnering column inches. Rather it is down to his role as a pioneer of the half beard.

The big question is why? It is like deliberately wearing odd socks. That is not quirky or wacky – it just looks daft. There is also a slightly creepy edge to the half beard bordering on an unsettling Jekyll and Hyde-like nod.

Some have claimed Tamberi believes his half beard brings him luck, while the man himself said he does it to "entertain the crowd." Big jumps, Gianmarco. That is what will entertain the crowd.

Perhaps go down the road of a Usain Bolt lightning pose or a Mo Farah-esque "Mobot". Work out a pre-arranged skit with the stadium mascot. Spin plates. Juggle. Perform the dance routine to Vogue by Madonna.

But for the love of sanity, cease and desist with this half beard nonsense. It is making me nervous. I feel the need to go and re-arrange all the tins in my kitchen cupboard into nice, neat rows simply to shake the uneasy feeling it provokes.

You are either in or you are out. Beard or clean-shaven. There is no facial hair halfway house (moustaches and goatees don't count).

Tamberi is not the only one dabbling in this perplexing behaviour. Sao Paulo-based photographer Adrian Alarcon spent four months earlier this year growing an impressive bushy hipster beard – and then promptly shaved half of it off for a project titled Fifty Fifty Selfie Barber Shop.

Alarcon then replaced the missing hair with chocolate sprinkles, pencil shavings, bugs, jigsaw puzzles, tiny plastic babies, popcorn and toy soldiers among others. This was admittedly a marginal improvement.

A quick Google images search reveals an alarmingly packed rogues gallery of half beard ambassadors.

How's this my business? Patriarchal ideals of femininity have long dictated body-hair removal as preference. I'm merely exercising my reciprocal opinion.