Until a few months back I had a beard worthy of a stylite, old Topic vinyl, a range of comfortable yet warm outdoor clothing and would slip seamlessly into a traditional gathering - the knack is not to acquire the X-factor.

Sadly m'lady was beginning to withold favours, claiming the whiskers contained livestock though I keep the togs and they're all strangers to an iron and the records are safe in the school cabinet, (as perfect a way of keeping records as you can lay hands on - wooden but with glass windows). None of the accessories condemn a man without that other thing, that glint, that messianic what-not that starts in the feet and works itself through the shoulders and out through t'gob.

Leave that out the mix and you can wear the pointiest, horsebrass festooned hat with leather tankards hanging from it like an Aussie's corks and be entirely without sin.