The Week in Words: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Nothing beats a long stint in the barber's chair to dissect the current style predicaments facing the new age man. Take my hairdresser, for example. He's a clear cut case of post-modern trend setting. Rockabilly grease quiff and Ned Kelly bushman beard: check. A plaid shirt (still cool) tucked under skinny denim and braces, like a posh lumberjack, or some faux-tramp extra from a Mumford & Sons identity parade: check. Severe turn-ups revealing heavy Doc Martin ankle boots, like the singer in a Two Tone ska band: check. I'm projecting here, but I reckon he also had sleeve tattoos. You see them a lot these days. There seems to have been a movement to gentrify staple rebel motifs for a long time now. I blame David Beckham.

The point is: how can anyone keep up with all that? I didn't wear socks to work recently and I never heard the end of it. The careful balance seems to be in adapting these bohemian, roguish, punk-like qualities without actually being homeless and/or a football hooligan. At 28, the high street becomes an unwelcome prospect. You choose your clothes store by how loud the music is. You know better than to wear Topman slogan shirts but you're not yet boring enough to dress like Jeremy Clarkson. Reiss, Hugo Boss and Paul Smith look nice, but who the hell can afford it? Most modern men will settle for a compromise somewhere between style, comfort and affordability. You're never going to get all three, but you'll happily settle for two.

I briefly met Neil Innes on Thursday at The Rutles reunion gig. He was playing the hits of Liverpool's Prefab Four with John Halsey, who played well-coiffed wannabe hairdresser Barry Wom in Eric Idle's spoof Beatles TV 'mockumentary', made in 1978. The novelty project was famously supported by George Harrison - a huge Monty Python fan - who also appeared in the film. Eric Idle played the analogous Paul McCartney role but - fact alert - he never actually played on the Rutles' records. His parts were performed by third Rutle Ricky Fataar, sadly absent from the reunion tour, who went on to play in The Beach Boys. Innes never received royalties for his acerbic, heartfelt homage to the Beatles' music because of how closely the songs resembled the originals, but Innes is a unique wit of extraordinary merit. He writes lyrics like, "A glass of wine with Gertrude Stein I know I'll never share." He's a sprightly 68 and sounding great, hopefully starting to recoup on his most famous satire. After all, All You Need is Cash.

I spent the start of the week struggling to get worked up about Miley Cyrus' performance at the MTV Video Music Awards. The moral outrage escalated hourly on the internet, running concurrently with the news of a Commons vote as to whether Britain should side with America on a program of strategic missile strikes on Syrian governmental targets. The potential war barely got a look-in on Twitter's top trends. Priorities, people.

Anyway, if I had to raise an objection (and, let's face it, why else would anyone write a blog?), then it wouldn't be with the performance itself - a bizarre pornification of a rather harmless pop song (and didn't Madonna do this better in the 80s?). It would be with the media reaction to Cyrus' new "mature" look, as if dressing in a skin-coloured PVC bikini and grinding her derriere into Robin Thicke's crotch like a trashy stripper on amphetamines was a byword for maturity.

If it's maturity you're after, the 20 year old former child star should have used the VMA platform to announce a new free jazz concept album, or her role as a PETA ambassador. She can do whatever she wants, of course, but it's a depressing sight nonetheless.