I don't think of myself as a vain person, but having to face the fact that I am undeniably and irreversibly going bald has induced in me a crisis of frankly girlish proportions. The sheer implausibility of it offends and astonishes me. I mean, for God's sake - who goes bald at 26? Me and fucking Lex Luthor, apparently. And I'll tell you, I have a whole new world of sympathy and understanding for that guy. No wonder he was a little bitter, having to look at Superman flying around all day with a full head of wavy lustrous oddly-blue hair, like he was such hot shit. Luthor, Ming the Merciless, George off Seinfeld... bald men have a great tradition of being evil bitter maniacs, a fact which is perhaps only capable of true comprehension by those who have themselves felt the brush of the wind where no man should. The insanity stems from a complete inability to move, rationally or emotionally, past the enormous and intractable question: why? What possible reason could there be to justify this horror? How could a loving creator allow this to happen? Science certainly cannot help us; I find it impossible to discern the evolutionary purpose served by walking round with one's scalp exposed to the elements. Unless it were to stop one's head overheating, but I would have thought this concern were already comprehensively addressed by the simple expedient of living in Britain. The only possible explanation I can think of is the supernatural; it is clearly some kind of a curse, sent by Gods who were jealous of my otherwise flawless staggering physical beauty. This notion is one that would afford me some small comfort, were it not so patently, demonstrably and hilariously false.
However, as anyone who knows me will happily concede, I am a cheery and unfailingly positive soul, not the sort to dwell for one second on life's bleaker aspect. It is in this spirit that I have compiled the following list of Good Things About Looking Like Phil Mitchell:
- People on the whole do seem less inclined to fuck with you.
- There is a certain soothing satisfaction to be had from rubbing one's bristly head contemplatively, like the old geezer in 'Seven Samurai'.
- Um... increased sensitivity to changes in atmospheric pressure.
And that's the lot. Scant compensation, I think you'll agree. The striking thing about premature baldness, and the real reason it is so massively and cosmically unjust, is the way it forces the individual to confront stark realities about time and mortality that could normally be swept under the psychological rug until well into middle age. Yes, you are getting older. Yes, you are going to die. No, you don't get to score with teenage girls any more.
…I'm sorry, I can't go on.
1.6/10, and that's only for the 'Seven Samurai' thing.