Hairy moments on the election trail

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Here we go again.

No sooner have we recovered from the General Election than we’re back on the political hamster wheel. Already two north east Fife candidates have thrown their hats into the ring for next year’s Holyrood elections; then there’s the Labour Party leadership contest; the Scottish Labour Party leadership contest ... it’s almost as much fun as Eurovision.

But the one contest that’s really caught my imagination is the selection of the Republican candidate for the US Presidency.

The notion of Donald Trump as the most powerful man on earth is too terrifying to contemplate, but scarier still is that hair.

As my grandmother might well have said to me: ‘Never trust a man with a combover’. And boy, that’s a combover and a half. More like a giant Shredded Wheat perched atop his bonce, secured in position by enough hairspray to stock an average-sized branch of Boots.

I wonder what’s under there? A shiny bald pate? Or maybe a family of nesting sparrows?

When he goes to bed at night, does he brush it out or is it still stay in place like a carefully-coiffed Brillo pad?

Pictorial proof of its staying power was evident this week when Mr Trump and his impossibly glamorous young wife (I can’t think what she sees in the multi-billionaire) were snapped on a blustery day.

While Mrs Glamourpuss Trump’s hair was all over the place, his remained as solid as a rock. He’s clearly learned a lesson or two in hair care since he was last in Scotland throwing his weight around, when he was captured in unflattering light on a few occasions, his combover flapping hither and thither like a windsock on a disused airfield. Not so much a hairdo, more a hair-don’t.

The grotesque combover aside, the would-be President has proved himself to be not so much Trump as Chump as he bulldozes his way round the country offending all and sundry.

He even seemed to suggest this week that a female news anchor’s aggressive line of questioning was attributable to the time of the month.

Perhaps she was just jealous because he hadn’t a hair out of place.

But what does it say about America that this crass, arrogant man with the world’s worst hairstyle is actually the frontrunner for the Republican candidacy?

Could it be something to do with the barnet formula?