I popped into a patisserie this morning for a bag of choccie croissants. The young gentleman behind the counter was sporting a rather startling Salvador Dali moustache. When I told Husband he said: “Maybe he’s making a statement.” The only thing I saw him making was the corners of people’s mouths twitch when he served them. And I couldn’t help thinking, why do it to yourself? (Says the woman who used to wear a bow-tie to school.) Why put yourself through the smirks, the titters, the cat-calls, the car-horn honking? Brave or bonkers? I can’t decide.