29 February 2012
Barber Shop Talk
Memory is an odd thing. One minute you do not remember shit, the next minute something comes to you all photographic.
When I was in England I had to get my hair cut every now and then because I changed from being a heavy metal freak to a punk rock freak. Went to the same barber every time. Nice guy, had loads of spanking magazines in a rack to read while you waited for a spot in the chair. One time there was a Hindoo getting his hair cut before me. When he left my barber told me how he wanted his haircut.
"Fucking Pakis all want the same bleeding thing. I ask them how they want their hair cut and they tell me they want their hair cut like Elvis. Bloody wogs. They think the secret to getting a white woman to fuck them is great bloody quiff."
Barbers know all kinds of shit regular folk miss out on.
Like maybe I am a some kind of a Hindoo too. One time I brought my English barber a picture of Lou Reed. Think speed freak Lou '75. Told him, "I want my hair cut like Lou's."
He looked at the picture. He looked at me.
"The fuck you do," he told me and cut my hair how he wanted like usual.