Pain
It’s that time of year – much like the negative image of a dog I tend to grow my hair in the summer and shed it in the winter. There is method behind this madness and it comes down to one simple fact, and one that underpins so much of male dress sense (at least where I come from) - practicality. Winter is a time of hat wearing – therefore a grade 2/3 buzzcut is eminently practical when you consider preparation time in the morning – I’m one of those people who is willing to make trade-offs like skipping breakfast in order to have another 15 minutes in bed in the morning (though I should qualify this by saying I tend to work long days and sleep short nights as it is). Also, I like to arrive at work and begin to work…I’m like that. I’m not the kind of guy who can sit and read the newspaper and drink 2 cups of coffee before even looking at their in-tray, and I haven’t been since my days working for the civil service in the UK (an incredibly cushy number – anyone complaining about their job there on grounds other than boredom either has never experienced the true private sector rat race or is just a bit mental). This work ethic means longer, styled hair and a hat are entirely incompatible – maybe if I were to wear a British policeman’s helmet or for Scrubs fans among you, something akin to JD’s “hairmet” there wouldn’t be an issue, but I’m a simple sort. I’m happy with a beannie and that kind of headhugging fit doesn’t gel with gel.
So there we go – I have validated my decision to lose my flowing locks. Next comes the method. Visits to the hairdressers, to me, carry the same erotic frisson as libraries or public transport (…perhaps I’m alone in this, I’ll explain another time). Therefore it’s still a mystery to me as to why I did this but I allowed, nay asked, my wife to attack my head with some very old clippers of unknown provenance. This was a mistake. When cutting my own hair with clippers I could do this cut in around 7 minutes (including detail work). With her (though to be fair, I should say with these clippers) it took about 30 minutes. It felt like 3 hours. It felt like she was attempting to tattoo a faithful recreation of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel onto my skull in full colour in one sitting. What I’m trying to say is it hurt. A lot. That was all I wanted to say really.
Oh, and to answer Markus’ grievous misreading of my position (some might almost say deliberate), I was talking about sustainability – I have no problem whatsoever with porn of any kind as long as any pain it causes is consensual. If the UK government were to start following my advice, they’d begin by legalising weed, radically overhauling the civil service and issuing an official apology and recognition of Cornwall‘s true political position (followed swiftly by a load more apologies to pretty much every country they’ve ever had dealings with, damned colonialists).
One more thing – Steve Irwin, some conservationists were critical of his approach and “hands-on” approach to his subject but it can’t be denied he did a lot to raise awareness of important issues and for that he will be sorely missed.
np: Bombtrack from the album “rage against the machine” by Rage Against The Machine
Related posts:
- Colloquialisms of Ben
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