Apparently a bunch of American academics came to Barcelona recently on their annual beano and, rumours about Baldie Tours having spread, recoiled in horror when they got into their coach on Monday morning and found a delightful young Spanish woman waiting for them. “Where’s the baldie? We want the baldie!” they cried as one. Apparently.
I had always kind of hoped that my cult following would manifest itself in the form of … well, you know, rather than as a horde of middle-aged, bespectacled, polysyllabic mumblers, but you takes what you gets, and you tries not to lose any of them to the wolves. Honest.
(It seems that helping the hairy is our burthen of guilt. Check out, for example, Baldey metasearch.)
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