don't let me down

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the privilege of this blog to present to you the latest breakthrough in the world of psychology: the Samson Complex. This is a treatise on the mysterious, ineffable, incredibly potent powers of that oft-underestimated body part, hair.

It begins with a cautionary tale. There once was a man named Jude Law who was the sexiest man alive. He had cheekbones chiselled out of marble and piercing, icy blue eyes. Jude acted in a variety of movies, like the one about a talented person named Ripley, and the one about flying into space and having perfect DNA, and the one about a mountain that was cold, and Jude looked flawless in all of them. Women hurled themselves onto him in great big swarms. Guys hurled themselves onto him in great big swarms. He had like 6 movies out in like a month and even that didn’t seem like overkill. Everyone wanted to have babies and name them Jude and claim to be huge Beatles fans but secretly it was because of Jude effin’ Law. He was a golden god, he was a Law unto himself.

Yes, we all remember. He was a beautiful creature. Then in the blink of an eye (a pretty, pretty, long-lashed eye), the man named Jude just lost it. His mojo, his charm, his sex appeal, everything. Suddenly he wasn’t cool anymore. Suddenly his rakish-charmer-shtick seemed weirdly desperate and sleazy. Suddenly he had a paunch and looked suspiciously like a schlub. Suddenly the other flaws (short... high voice...) that we’d been willing to overlook in the past were inescapably glaring. Jude effin’ Law became just ‘Jude Law’, a shadow of his former self; a shorter, stouter imposter; the artist formerly known as Jude effin’ Law. He was washed-up, a broken man. The Law was broken.

Most people blame his sharp downward trajectory on Nannygate, but forgive them, they lack my finely-tuned perception. I alone saw the truth – it wasn’t the unfairly-maligned nanny at all. (And really, to digress: that poor girl. She became Public Enemy Number One to women everywhere overnight.) Anyway, it wasn’t her at all. It was his hairline. Yep, poor ol’ Judey started losing his sandy golden locks, panicked, and let everything slide. He couldn’t begin to make it better. He took a sad song and made it worse.

Throughout history and literature there have been countless examples of the connection between losing one’s hair and losing one’s power. Samson aside, remember that scene in Narnia when the Witch and her minions shave off Aslan’s mane? And then he looked like a pathetic little kitten and made everyone cry? And Aslan, in Narnia, is no less than God. If even God can be reduced to a pitiful kitten when stripped of his divine curls, I shudder to think the effect of the same on mere mortals.

Or the effect of the same on mere hamsters. Yes, it is my sad duty to announce to his ardent fanbase that Vladimir Leow – once People Magazine’s Sexiest Hamster Alive! Once Vladimir effin’ Leow! – has done a Jude and shed his luscious fur. Originally proud and majestic, little Vlady is practically unrecognisable of late. He used to resemble a miniature teddy bear. Now pink-skinned, scrawny and wrinkly, he resembles the child-eating monster from Pan’s Labyrinth. And as theory predicted, with the hair went the cuteness. I’m not superficial, but now I can hardly bring myself to touch him.

So let’s take a quiet moment, please, from this extended Beijing 101 commercial, to remember Vladimir as he once was. Ferocious V, we hardly knew ye.