Category Archives: alopecia

One of the greatest national emergencies of our time

Screen Shot 2016-07-10 at 23.27.26Dalrymple reports that the baldness of Wayne Rooney, the footballer, is returning,

despite the many thousands of pounds that he has spent on hair transplantation.

Dalrymple comments:

As Tony Blair said so memorably at the outset of his career as prime minister, we are a young country. Can we seriously afford to have a balding man playing for our national team? Not, of course, that it is very good at what it does.

Rooney ruefully touches the hair of a fellow player in the national team after England's defeat at the hands of Iceland (population 330,000) at the 2016 UEFA European Championship

A rueful Rooney, who suffers from alopecia, enviously examines the full head of hair of a fellow national squad member after England’s defeat at the hands of Iceland (population 330,000, about that of the single English city of Coventry) at the 2016 UEFA European Championship

Enigma of the Donald’s hair

img_2958Dalrymple addresses one of the most pressing questions of the day, namely

the nature of Donald Trump’s hair.

He asks:

Is it real, is it natural, is it implanted, is it a toupée, what exactly is it?

He consults a barber, who indicates that

in all his career he has never seen anything remotely like it. He does not believe that it has come about by any of the usual ways of cultivating or dressing hair.

Dalrymple’s view is that the Donald’s coiffure is

so bad, it’s good.

Trump’s hair is his

logo, as recognisable as that of, say, Coca-Cola. He is instantly identifiable even from a photo taken of the back or top of his head, without any other context or visual clue.

No one

goes to a barber’s and discusses Marco Rubio’s or Bernie Sanders’ hair, though I suppose you might discuss Mrs Clinton’s face in a plastic surgery clinic.

Attire that connotes the plebeian but denotes anything but

Screen Shot 2015-03-31 at 22.35.33The mandarin and the masses

A smug, moneyed, adolescent, Leftist poseur

Motorbike, leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans connote proletarian mass but denote Marxist mandarin

Yanis Veroufakis, the Greek finance minister, has been described as the pop star of the left. This is, as Dalrymple points out,

hardly a term of approbation, rather the reverse.

He has a powerful motorcycle, and likes to dress in a leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans. He is going quite bald. Screen Shot 2015-03-31 at 22.49.25His facial expression

is that of considerable self-satisfaction. He no doubt thinks of himself as deeply unconventional, but in a world of six billion people it is hard to escape convention, and in any case it is not a worthy object.

In fact

he is that most conventional of figures, the adolescent who cannot bear to be fully adult, who wants to be 18-20 forever. In a few years’ time we shall see the first 80-year old adolescents.

Screen Shot 2015-03-31 at 22.51.21While Veroufakis’ clothes have proletarian connotations,

their denotation is anything but. You can see that his black leather jacket must have been very expensive indeed, and his motorbike is not the kind that students ride, but a top-of-the-range swank model [a Yamaha XJR1300].

Veroufakis married into money and a high standard of living, that of the upper 0.1 per cent of the population, and Dalrymple guesses that

he has no great vocation for giving up his privileges for the benefit of the people.

Screen Shot 2015-04-01 at 22.09.37

On alopecia

Screen Shot 2014-02-22 at 01.22.26Dalrymple writes:

I once thought it would be terrible, near intolerable, to be bald, but I now find that it is not so bad after all. The major problem with it is keeping one’s hat on in the cold wind.

Young, dumb and full of cum

Screen Shot 2014-02-18 at 02.52.23Dalrymple’s youthful weak-mindedness and folly

There were some rather strange thoughts about alopecia:

I remember thinking…that baldness in men was a physical sign or consequence of having compromised in cowardly fashion with the demands of the world for the sake of peace, quiet and comfort.

Dalrymple regarded an ordinary career as anathema, also

morally reprehensible, treachery to the demands of Life….It did not occur to me…that everything I valued in life depended upon the willingness of others to live the type of life I did not wish to lead.

He fancied himself a daredevil, persuading himself that cheap excursions into apparent danger ‘had some higher purpose’. These exploits naturally caused anxiety to his mother and father, but

I didn’t give them a moment’s thought: it was precisely from them and from what they wanted for me that I sought to escape.

Of course, in the end, like so many spoilt, conceited young middle-class people, he

was able to have my cake and eat it.