'A Haircut you say?'

Yes that was the reply as I walked into the hairdressers and came up with the brilliant line of : 'Can I have a haircut?' and so set a whole host of events into motion, such as my haircut. There I was sitting down, waiting in both trepidation and curiosity as to what the final results of this quaint English tradition would be. For those who do not know, and for those who have even less intrest in my personal well-being i have long-hair, not metal, rock style long hair, just enough to look 'neglected' and nomadic, which is the general look i go for. After removing he hand from the void of lost souls that is my hair and finally getting rid of those irritating 'chocloate drops' (didn't taste very chocolatey) the whole crazy adventure began with the minimum of fanfare. There was still slight fanfare, due to a marching band being in town, but it was low-key in comparison to other events in my life, such as execution.
Throughout this 'haircut', the one thing I found curious was the fact that the lady who was manhandling the scissors took it upon herself to make random, inane and often annoying utterances. I presumed she was mentally defective and so just gave her a sympathetic smile and one of my chocolate droppings generally accompanied by a reassuring comment of 'I'm sure it won't be long now' and a pat on the head. I also counted three seperate occassions when she burst into tears, which I presumed was her way of communicating her heartbreaking despair that her life is empty and she can't even kill herself successfully, poor lass. To help her on this count, in way of saying sorry for running out without paying, I waited until she left work and ran her over, the least I could do.
After this lady had finished molesting my locks of brown delightful hair, I noticed something odd, it looked no different, sure i heard clipping sounds and saw hair dropping to the ground, but this did not appear to have altered my appearance enough to be noticeable. I then realised that she must have glued hair to her finger nails and cut that by accident, the mentally defective cunt. At which point I ran out screaming, 'you bitch, you bitch, look at this fuckin disgrace, you stupid fucking bitch. good day to you madam.' The rest, as they say, is boring.

Take it easy