IF MEN went bald overnight, they would wake up screaming in their hair-filled beds and be carried off to the nearest asylum in a dandruff-free straitjacket.

Thankfully, nature is good like that. It gives men the chance to fight back against the stigma they will have to carry around on their heads for the rest of their lives.

They will use any weapon in the battle to remain hirsute - old wives' tales about dung from the three-humped albino camel from the west face of a Himalayan mountain (smells a bit but who cares?), potions, massage, transplant surgery, wigs.

It's a traumatic moment the day you realise your hair is no longer curling but waving - ta-ta. It starts when you notice the plughole is blocked after you shampoo. The light starts to shine through the thinning strands. Then you notice your scalp really is bulging through your once-proud thatch.

Some of the afflicted live with it gracefully, others comb and stick what's left over the gleaming patches of pate. Or worse, they buy an ill-fitting rug that's worse than what they are trying to hide.

But who can blame them? It's a cruel world with plenty of people ready to rub it in.

"Oy, baldy!" they shout in the streets or pubs. "Chrome dome, egghead, powder your head, the reflection's spoiling my view. I'd sue your hairdresser if I were you."

If you grow a beard they accuse you of having your head on upside down. If you get a nasty spot on your head, they liken you to a giant breast.

"Your hair's going thin - but I suppose you didn't want fat hair anyway, tee hee." I've heard them all during the years and I'm still waiting for a funny one.

It still annoys me. Recently, I overheard a woman pointing me out at a meeting in a crowded room: "He's over there - the bald one."

Why not "That's him in the orange suit"? Or "That's him - the distinguished, handsome, debonair gentleman."

No, it's always "the bald one."

Some people try to be kind. "I'll bet you were good looking when you had hair!" In fact, one of my 14 wives once said she wouldn't have married me if I'd had hair. Dear, misguided thing. I thanked her and handed over her white stick.

A few years ago I hired a Beatles' Sgt Pepper outfit, complete with black Beatles wig, for a fancy-dress party. I was getting on famously with a colleague's wife I'd never met before and we sat together at dinner, the wig making my head hotter and hotter. While she was talking to someone on her right, I took it off. When she turned back to me her mouth fell open and she screamed "God... get it back on you look 'orrible." There's nice.

Etched on my memory is the time, as a young - bald man - I was strolling through Scarborough when an expert marksman seagull used my inviting pate for target practice. Three teenage girls fell about laughing and started shrieking ribald comments. I can still hear them laughing. No wonder I loathe Scarborough.

So why during the last few years do young men follow this trend of shaving their heads like Phil and Grant Mitchell? These ASBO-cuts make them look as if they are about to be put in chains and packed off on the next ship to Botany Bay.

It must cost a fortune in Immac or shaving foam to achieve the look. I got it as an unwanted, free gift.

In fact I know one young chap who had the cropped head for three years and when he decided he was sick of the trend, he discovered he had unknowingly gone bald in the meantime. And he was upset about it.

So you learn to be positive - no dandruff; what you save on shampoo, hairspray, haircuts and combs will pay for a holiday; and you perpetuate the myth to anyone who'll listen that bald means virile and sexy. Honest.

Updated: 11:15 Tuesday, August 30, 2005