There's always something

We’re human – well, most of us – which means there’s always going to be something.

We have minds, thoughts, likes and dislikes. We have differing opinions – something somewhat life threatening if you’re Bosnian – different approaches and ways of thinking. Civilization came about through asking questions (do I really want to knock my wife over the head with a heavy wooden club and dr… bad example, but you get the idea). Science, a cornerstone of civilization came about trying to answer these questions (try this new graphite composite: better clubhead speed, less strain on your wrist and a bigger sweet-spot – your wife still won’t know what hit her, but she’ll have less of a headache in the morning).

Building a sustainable society comes about through trying to manage these differing opinions into an accepted set of guidelines we can all abide by for the wellbeing and preservation of the whole. We might not always agree. We could have seemingly better ideas and concepts and systems to manage the machine more efficiently, but on the whole we can overcome the insurmountable through debate, compromise, acceptance and forgiveness – on Tuesdays. There’s always going to be something – that’s democracy. I get it.

What I don’t get is bum-fluff.

I also don’t get bubble-gum milkshake, blue lipstick, ‘80’s fashion, and Pop Idols, but I ignore or avoid those. Bum-fluff kinda follows me wherever I go.

But (no pun intended) I have a theory.

Yes, you can say I’m a bit of a phyl… a philo… filos… Yes, you can say I’m a big thinker in my spare time (it’s Saturday – spell checker has the day off), and one day an eccentric scientist or bored Buddhist monk will read this letter and ponder my theorem over a tub of ageing yoghurt. So will start an evolution of a concept so great it will spark research grants, debate, possibly even war, and eventually the world will have a revolutionary treatment combating hair-loss in men.

Remember, you saw it here first!

The theory is based on the following fact, realised (and closely monitored) by yours truly over more than a decade. When my research started I had a full head of hair – no bum-fluff. This has changed – on both counts. I can therefore deduct that I do not suffer from hair-loss, but rather from hair-migration!

This theory is further supported by the fact that over these years rogue hairs have started appearing in various other places previously looked down on, deemed uninhabitable: at first the eyebrows peculiarly start expanding, then they appear in the nose, the ears, back – jeesh, hairs everywhere except where they should be. Some mornings I’m too scared to see my teeth for fear of an expeditionary force having colonised my mouth overnight! I know they try because I’ve seen their fallen comrades on my pillow in the morning.

OK, that’s the theory and I graciously accept your applause. Thank you.

My wife was the first to hear the “waynnesworld theorem on hair-migration” and I’m sure she loved it. When I told her it was a no-brainer, she agreed, adding that it had to be, coming from me. That’s good, right?

Anyway, not being one to offer up problems, I do believe I might have yet another theory - my mind’s been working overtime (theoretically speaking) – on a possible solution. Therefore, in assisting the yoghurt-sucking guru that’ll eventually crack the code, I postulate the following: a hair will only migrate should conditions for safe and prosperous co-existence (or rewards) diminish below previously determined levels in relation to the exterior influences and threats determining the future ability to exist as part of society (or risks) as perceived by said individual hair, or collective clump. It’s in thair nature.

So, my dear sir, if you can sort out their nits, untangle a few knots, tie up a few split ends, sort out the neighbouring follicle’s late night partying and trim out the radicals – hey presto, no more hair-migration.

Another thing: isn’t it strange – more like bloody obvious – that it’s only males who lose their manes. I smell a global conspiracy… or it could be cabbage (my sinusitis is clearing).

I put this to my wife, but from the way she rolled her eyes and walked out the room without so much as a breath wasted, I knew I was onto something.

So Yoda, when you’re reading this – check out the women.

… although, I have to admit I don’t wash / rinse / condition / repeat my hair with “An essence born in the glacier of a Tibetan peak” making my hair feel stronger and fuller, smelling of a spring meadow… maybe I should. However, I’ve seen what a Tibetan Yak does in a Tibetan spring meadow! I’ll stick with my Body-on-Tap thank you very much. Guaranteed to give me a great body – says so right there on the bottle – and it’s made with beer! I like beer.

But what if hairs migrate because of beer? I could start drinking wine! Then I can also chat with my friends about the nuances of asparagus, green peppers and berries with the lingering aftertaste of guava leaving my palate wanting for more…

Problem is, I don’t like asparagus.

However, I breathe between sentences and blink my eyes every now and then. I signal before turning and don’t make decisions involving mauve (a colour apparently). Could that be what makes my hair migrate? Maybe that’s the little something that makes a strand turn to his mate and say: “That’s it – I can’t stand this scalp any longer. All that breathing and blinking! There’s no mindless chatter and not enough noise inside this skull – it’s just not safe for the kids. We’re moving. I’ve heard the bum offers great atmosphere. Let’s check it out!”

Could it be that?