Having ended up with a number of policeman's haircuts from Spanish barbers I have ended up going to Ladies Salons for the last two years, but after waiting an hour in vain with only a copy of Hola! magazine last week, I walked out of my regular and booked a cut with the Moroccan woman up the road.
I turned up and she had brought in a small, sad man with piercing blue eyes who gave me a terrific cut using only clippers and a cut throat. Pure skill. He then shaved me until my chin felt like a peeled hard-boiled egg, and I came out smelling so masculine and fragrant I was turning myself on.
I hate going to new barbers. My other favourites have been Bill the Barber in Nottingham, whose gimmick was using a spirit level to check the flat tops, and Dave Parker in the Toon, who hugged me when I popped in last year.
I turned up and she had brought in a small, sad man with piercing blue eyes who gave me a terrific cut using only clippers and a cut throat. Pure skill. He then shaved me until my chin felt like a peeled hard-boiled egg, and I came out smelling so masculine and fragrant I was turning myself on.
I hate going to new barbers. My other favourites have been Bill the Barber in Nottingham, whose gimmick was using a spirit level to check the flat tops, and Dave Parker in the Toon, who hugged me when I popped in last year.
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