Sunday, February 22, 2004

...got my hair cut yesterday...

...and just as I was about to pay up and leave was asked if I wanted my beard tidied up a bit. Unfortunately the Dago-speak that surrounded these keywords turned out to be a bit more important than usual, and before I knew it the chair was horizontal, my arms were being karate-chop massaged, my face was being scraped with a cut-throat razor, and ten quid got added to my bill. On the upside, the haircut was OK. On the downside, I've washed my hair three times now and still can't get rid of the fucking Bryllcreem. Just what the fuck is the obsession with that bastard stuff all about? We don't all want to look like we carve grilled elephant legs for a living. Unfortunately it looks as though they're the only local barbers who can trust themselves using sharp implements on a white man...

Consoled myself with a piece of banana cake from the local bakery. Mental note to try lots more caribbean food before I move back to england ;)