SHOWBIZ writer BRIAN BEACOM revealed yesterday how he gradually lost his hair as middle age beckoned, and how he eventually decided on a hair transplant. Here he tells how TV Dragon Duncan Bannatyne let him in on a secret...

DRAGONS' DEN star Duncan Bannatyne was appearing on the ITV show Fortune: Million Pound Giveaway, when one thick-skinned and thin-haired young man asked him for cash - for a hair transplant.

Duncan didn't give the balding bloke the money - but he did give him some advice. He asked if he had consulted Dr Bessam Farjo. "Dr Farjo is the best. No one will ever know you had it done," said the Scots millionaire.

The business legend had had a hair transplant, carried out by Dr Farjo, who runs hair transplant clinics in Manchester and London.

Was he the man for me? A check revealed he had a list of accreditations as long as Rapunzel's hair.

Then I made another discovery. Former EastEnders' and Extras' actor Sean Williamson, once as bald as Bilko, now had a great new head of hair - thanks to Dr Farjo.

Here was a doctor whose results were highly visible - could he stop me from becoming a domehead?

I headed to the state-of-the-art Farjo clinic in Manchester where I was met by clinic manager Mick, who was extremely likeable, but more importantly the photos on the wall revealed that Mick, with a good head of hair, was once as thin on top as me.

Mick explained the process, called Ultra-Refined Follicular Unit Transplantation, to me.

In olden days, hair transplants were crude and largely ineffective, with plugs of hair pulled from the back of the head and planted on top.

(Russ Abbot's head, for example, looked as though it had been punctured by a joiner's bridle and tufts of hair inserted. Abbot later had the plugs removed.) But the Farjo Clinic's technique is far more sophisticated. It involves taking a thin strip of scalp, about half an inch wide, which contains the hair roots which are genetically programmed to grow for the rest of your life'.

This strip is then dissected and the hair follicles separated into different units, containing 1-4 hairs each.

These units are then inserted into tiny slits in the scalp, where they will live happily for a lifetime.

It sounded wonderful.

Here was the chance to laugh in the face of the evil dihydrotestosterone (DHT), the hormone which teams up with a specific cell protein to tell hair follicles to destroy themselves.

But then came the panic moment. What if Dr Farjo, the man whose hands my head could soon be placed in, discovered my skull wasn't suitable after all?

"You won't get a thick head of hair," he said, "but you have a good growth area at the back and we can transplant that and get a decent result."

Phew. The genial Dr Farjo was then prepared to answer as many questions as I could throw at him: how long does the procedure take? (A day.) Will I have instant hair? (No, it will start to grow in after three to four months.) Will there be much scarring? (None). How many hairs will I need? (Around 2500 follicular units.) Will I become more attractive to the opposite sex and have 28-year-olds chasing me around the disco? (Unlikely. And be careful what you wish for.)

Three months later I returned to Manchester for the treatment. Was I nervous? You bet. After watching my hair fall out for over 30 years I couldn't wait to change the process. But would it work?

Incredibly, the procedure itself was actually enjoyable. After being given a mild sedative, I sat in an airline-style seat, and laid back facing a huge plasma screen on which I could watch the latest movies and relax while Dr Farjo went to work. Back on top: Brian just after his transplant, above, three months later as his hair grew in, centre pictures, and today with his new hair, far right

First, he drew on my head with a marker pen, the outline showing where the new hair would be planted. Mmm. I wasn't so sure. The hairline looked a little too full. I reckoned I looked a little too much like Scott Tracy from Thunderbirds.

"It will look fine," said the surgeon, reassuringly.

I was anaesthetized. And yes, I was aware of the doner strip being removed, but only just. And I was aware too of the back of my head being stitched up.

Dr Farjo's team then began to separate the hair follicles into different sized units while little slits were made in my scalp with a scalpel. There was mild discomfort, but to be honest it was all far more relaxing than a busy day in a newspaper office.

And so it continued until at 7pm, almost 12 hours after he started, Dr Farjo stood back and announced it was all over.

"Would you like to see your new hairline?" he asked. Would I? After years of worry and months of waiting I couldn't wait. And I didn't look like Scott Tracy after all. It looked... brilliant Over the next 10 days I couldn't play tennis or go out on my bike. Although I did, because I'm idiot.

Two weeks on however, once the stitches had melted away, my head was back to normal.

And it was only a couple of months before the new hair grew in, and it's incredible.

So incredible in fact I had to write a book about it. A hair transplant with the Farjo Clinic (www.farjo.com) will cost from £3000, depending upon hair required. To read extracts from Brian book Diary Of A Hair Transplant: A Journalist's Search For David Cassidy Hair, log onto www.eveningtimes.co.uk The book is on sale at www.diaryof ahairtransplant.com (Phantom Publishing UK, £6.99).