Pogonophobia - which translates as an abnormal fear of beards. Granted, they don't suit every face and they loiter on every corner of Hoxton and Shoreditch like suits in Canary Wharf - but they are just the right amount of bohemian for me. Nonconformist, but without the sandals. I am a big fan.
I have grown a beard. The decision came from nowhere although was accompanied by an undertaking to my daughters that I would get an ear pierced. There was therefore a whiff of mid-life crisis in the air that day.
The truth is, beards tend to fascinate people in the Western world. Other cultures have the beard built into their social DNA, but here, in this side of the world, a beard raises a question or two. Especially if you're David Beckham.
I am an Indian living in Britain. I hate shaving. Having never been a creature of habit, I detest the sheer routine of tepid water and lacerated skin. This persistent sanding down of pebbledash on my face; what for? I am content with a bit of beard. Leave me be.