As hair-loss treatments improve, one wonders if we’ll start to get nostalgic for a good combover

It is with mixed emotions that I announce the end of baldness. Rest in pates, old friend. This year will see the very last generation of men who, having arrived at the threshold of their 30s, are forced to accept the loss of their hair, with all their future sons and grandsons nipping instead to Turkey for a little implant and some kofta. Gone today, hair tomorrow.

It’s true, look around. Compared with the Sean Connerys and Bruce Willises of yore, the number of bald celebrities on screen today can be counted on a single fist. The surgical technology has evolved, the transplants have become more accessible, the preventative drugs have improved, the death of bald is nigh. Like combovers, the hair plugs bring their own acts of faith of course, with hairlines so straight and thick it appears sometimes as if they are creeping down the face at night like a mask – every time I see one on telly I’m reminded of the Simpsons episode where Homer gets an evil hair transplant that plants its roots in his brain, leading him to murder Apu and Moe.