You can tell a lot just by looking at Paul Henry

BY ROSEMARY MCLEOD

OPINION: We had intended to keep our studies secret, but now that Paul Henry finds himself in a spot of bother, I feel bound, as his fellow student, to leap to his defence.

We are both devotees of a Victorian practice, you see. We study physiognomy, the art - if you prefer - of metoposcopy. This enables us to determine, at a trained yet searching glance, whether a person is up to our own standards of facial perfection, or - to use a term we find useful - looks possibly mentally retarded.

Our joint studies of this arcane but useful art came about in the most natural way possible, from looking in the mirror. There we jointly beheld countenances of such superb symmetry, such natural aristocracy, that we exclaimed in delight.

"Paul," said I, "never have I seen such a vaulted and noble forehead! Surely you do not shave your hairline, thus cheating, to seem intellectual?"

"My goodness no," Paul replied, in his affable yet humble way. "My superior forehead is just as God made it, proof of my sensitive soul. And by the way, Rosemary, your nose suggests to me that you are of an epicurean disposition, a person who knows a good smell from bad."

As you can imagine, things went swimmingly from then on, and we embarked on our joint study programme, having at hand a useful book, including the handy One Hundred Physiognomical Rules from John Lavater's Victorian classic Essays on Physiognomy. My copy once belonged to our parliamentary library, so don't knock it.

I wouldn't want anyone to think Paul's outburst about Scottish singer Susan Boyle was in any way unscientific. He reportedly laughed merrily at a magazine article revealing she'd been starved of oxygen at birth, and hence suffered an intellectual disability. "Here's the interesting part," he added, "She is in fact retarded. And if you look at her carefully you can make it out." As indeed you may.

Using my own studies as a guide, it's not hard to see Ms Boyle's problem. It's in the unplucked eyebrows she first appeared with, her bad frock and unkempt hair. Her high and apparently noble forehead is deceptive, since it balances far too symmetrically with her jaw. Had her jawline been daintier, it would have been quite another matter. She might have proved to be a useful parlour maid. But as it is, she's condemned to be a mere singing sensation.

I must deal swiftly with any imputation that Paul laughed insensitively at the mention of oxygen deprivation. This was merely evidence of his inquiring mind at work, and he is naturally joyful. Everyone knows, too, how he chuckles at the mention of playground bullying such as Ms Boyle was said to experience as a child. But this is only because it calls to mind the jolly times he had in the playground himself, configuring trigonometry whilst playing virtuoso violin and chewing bubblegum, all at the same time. He was ever of a forward, as opposed to a retarded, nature.

* * *

Paul's critics should acquaint themselves with the basics of physiognomy before damning the man for his rapid burst of wit. I shall elucidate.

He wears glasses, proof that he has worn out his retinas reading large books with footnotes. His ultra- short, dark hair denotes the man of streamlined action, and his large pink ears prove a noble genetic inheritance of enhanced hearing faculties. Paul's short neck and wide jaw show a lively, Puckish intelligence, and his round head brings to mind both a soccer ball - as in the beautiful game - and an elevated sense of justice. This is a man who'd never have been bullied, albeit that he may have chuckled innocently at the discomfiture of those who have been, and who has never been denied oxygen.

"The beauty and deformity of the countenance is in a just and determinate proportion to the beauty and deformity of the man," writes Lavater, and we see this proven in Paul's manly visage, which radiates wisdom and thoughtfulness.

Some may argue that we've moved on from Victorian times, and have abandoned much of its science. But I'm with Paul. Those who fail to learn from history's mistakes are destined to repeat them, especially if they have thick, wiry hair, bushy eyebrows, eyes slightly too close together, and can carry a tune, say.

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