Thursday, May 08, 2008
Hirsutes you, sir
So I went for a haircut. In the same place as I have for the last 10 years or more, Mr Topper's £6 Haircut (though frankly the place hasn't been the same since it stopped being Mr Topper's £5 Haircut a few years ago and they just rounded out the circle in the '5' on the sign outside with a bit of coloured paper). As even those of you who haven't had the pleasure of being shorn by the big green frog in spats and his multilingual assistants might guess, it's not exactly Toni and Guy. In fact, if the man behind you was wearing a bloody apron and wielding a meat cleaver, you wouldn't be over-surprised.
But this time there was a sign next to the mirror giving prices for men who wanted to have their "eyebrows resculpted and tinted". And beneath that - I swear I'm not making this up - was the offer to have "upper lip and chin waxed."
Now hang on just one cotton-plucking minute! That's the sort of thing you used to have to go to Transformations on Eversholt Street to get done!
Combine that with the boy I walked into work behind this morning who'd obviously spent longer on his straightening tongs than I had on the entire commute, and the advert above a urinal in a City pub I was in recently advertising a special electric razor for shaving "intimate areas", and I start to come over a bit Kelvin Mackenzie. It ain't natural, I tell thee.
Personally, I blame the heterosexuals.