Perhaps I should invest in a wig. Then I could be Prince Rupert in the morning and Praise-God Barebones in the afternoon- or the other way round if I so chose. No, I'm not serious. Wigs are silly.
I was looking at portraits of late seventeenth century admirals in the Queens House at Greenwich, all of them with their fat little faces engulphed in enormous shoulder-length horsehair wigs and I was thinking "How did they stand it?"