Hairdresser of Doom 2

Another month, another haircut. And who pads up to satisfy my needs? My Nemesis. The same man who so totally fucked it up last time. I really need to listen when the receptionist tells me his name so I can avoid him in future.

One of the homosexuals at reception takes my coat and umbrella and I'm led by a young woman to the sinks. Here she takes out her menstrual aggression on my scalp and directs me to a chair where My Nemesis will do his evil work.

'I think I cut your hair before' he muses, as I wonder if what makes it so memorable for him is the same as what makes it so memorable for me. 'How was that?' he asks. 'Yeah, fine, more or less' I say, hoping desperately that he'll take the hint.

As he gets started he asks 'what have you been up to this week?'

'Well I've been off this week, so not much' (I don't think he could handle the concept of education days and a graduate scheme. This would take too much explanation and require continued conversation.)

The rest of the appointment proceeds without words as I silently contemplate my follicular fate, fearful sweat gathering on my forehead.

Nearing the end now, I tell myself, praying to a god I know doesn't exist. Suddenly he asks 'how's that?'

'Fine, though could you even out the sides a bit more?'. He obediently sets about his task, taking an unnecessarily long time to justify his fee and satisfy his patron. Telling him what to do is paying off.

Growing in confidence I issue more commands.

'The front, shorter', I snap, as he hurriedly moves his graceless hands to the necessary position. Clearly this man is heterosexual.

'Dust my nose. Brush my neck. A cosmopolitan, now.' Dance, puppet, dance.

Shaking and frightened, he lifts the mirror to the back of my head.

'Acceptable'

There's only one word for my performance: Leadership.

In other news, apparently there's been some sort of election. The blues came out on top, followed by the reds and the yellows. After a marathon election programme I have only one thing to say.

I agree with Nick.

Sadly, not enough people did. Some people didn't even get to vote, with long queues at polling stations. People blame the returning officers, but I blame the lazy morons who couldn't be bothered to turn up before 9.30pm. Let's have a Stupidity Tax, just tax the stupid people. That'll teach them, or it would if they weren't so stupid.