As many of you know I am a follicley challenged twenty-something. In this, a share something with Wayne Rooney – perhaps the only thing as I don’t pay Grannies for sex and I won’t name my children after a Japanese hatchback.
However, Wayne has decided to abandon his fellow baldies by getting a hair transplant, announcing it to his followers on Twitter. This got me thinking, would I follow in his footsteps and tackle the increasingly barren landscape atop my brow?
First I considered the cost, which can be anywhere between £3-14,000. I can think of many things I’d rather spend that sort of money on over a hair transplant. For example, how about a lovely Brant Black Panama hat to hide your shame from the world? Or perhaps consider hypnosis so you don’t think about it.
Second, those who are members of the shiny head club are said to be more virile than most. Would these magical sexual powers vanish if I was to get a transplant? It is a risk I am simply not willing to take.
And third, being bald is part of what makes me who I am. It makes me stronger to stare at the world with defiance and say “yes I am bald and proud, deal with it.” Plus, like looking at the sun during an eclipse, staring at my slaphead for too long can seriously damage your eyes. So just don’t.
So no, I won’t be getting a hair transplant. I wish Wayne well, but I fear that in doing this he has shown himself to be an overpaid, soon to be sexually deficient, weak willed man. Poor lad.