In his Seventies. Bald. Rather plump. Shuffles like a penguin when he walks. And is probably responsible for more embarrassing memories than I could ever accomplish in my lifetime.
He was on holiday somewhere, sitting down, as is his wont. A little girl was stood nearby and, being the cheerful fellow he is, my Stepdad ruffled her hair and said 'My, don't we have lovely locks?'
'Do you mind?', said the forty-year-old dwarf.