For those who don’t know Namibian, I’ve included a picture. Here he is, twerking in Glasgow, as we begin the second European leg of the Beyonce Tour. Notice anything different about him?

‘I’ve lost nine kilos and can see my dick now,’ he brags. But that’s not what I meant. No, this frothy soul – cerebral, yet light-hearted and loving – seems to have a blemish upon his upper lip. (Click here to see why a moustache was no longer in vogue at least as far back as 2010.)

Moustache?

A soup strainer? Worn by a man with congenital sex appeal? I’m not sure I like the bungling cut of his jib. Ah, but he has an excuse. ‘It’s to keep the women away,’ he explains slowly, as though giving dictation to a five-year-old stenographer. Eh?

‘Yeah, well I’m not getting married again,’ he sighs. Wow, the lengths he has to descend to to avoid wife number four, eh? In contrast to the rest of us, this unprepossessing bedroom ninja has to make an effort to look less attractive. Agile – and comprising a mind with no horizon – he snaps his fingers and girls appear, much like kittens relish catnip. Move over George Clooney.

Or no moustache?

Anyway, you’ll be glad to know that I’ve talked him out of this foolishness. The electric razor whirs; the stain is deleted. Phew! As Andrew Davidson once wrote, ‘Abstinence is a bridle that gives the spirit a chance in the eternal quarrel with the body.’

Well, tsk to the spirit. Crudely paraphrased, the 1940s are over and moustaches oughtn’t to be worn unless it’s Movember. Welcome back, Namibian. Here’s to a great 2014 tour.

In other news, the Beyonce show is still fantastic. We’ve now reached Birmingham – thank you, your sympathy is appreciated – and the rest of the tour dates can be found here. Don’t hesitate not to drop in for tea if you’re passing. More soon..