Scared

I never used to think that I was a brave man but today I proved myself wrong. Today is the 13th day of the month, what is considered to be an unlucky day of the month, and I have had my hair cut, which is thing that I really dislike. I’m not going to describe having my hair cut because I’m pretty sure that most of you have had it done before but I really do hate the leaning backwards sink thing to have my hair washed because it feels so uncomfortable and then something so upsetting happened. The hairdresser combed my damp hair backwards over my head making me look like an 80’s Wall Street banker and then I looked at my right temple. My slightly shiny, thinly haired right temple. When I say thinly haired, what I mean is bald. Horrid male pattern baldness is spreading across my head like some very tiny combine harvester, quietly, slowly but determined to rib my head of its lovely, Timotei advert like, lustrous beautiful hair. Bugger. The comb-over is the hair cut for me.





We’ve got a brand and we’re not afraid to flog it, possibly to death.