Always trust a professional.

Good Saturday morning to youse.

For those that haven't seen me lately let me share a follicular tale of intruigue. I was taking the clippers to me 'ed as I'm liable to do when I get a bit unkempt up top. Usually when I self administer a haircut I invariably miss a bit. Usually just a little line right at the back where I can't quite see, but my friends take delight in pointing out. So this time I was determined to get it right. I took ages to run the guarded clippers over all of the loose strands of hair. Ages, I tells ya. Maybe twenty minutes to half an hour. I kept going until the tell-tale buzz of shaving hair was all but a memory. Damn, I'm lookin' good.
So I replace the guard with a #2 and trim around the back all professional, like. I'm a natural born trimmer (hey, I just made that up). So when I'm done with that I remove the guard completely and trim the back and the edges around me tiny little hippopotamus ears. I could get a job doing this.
But then, once I was finished, I had a momentary lapse of brain. I spotted a bit at the front that didn't quite look even. That could do with another trim. So I stab at it with the clippers and recoil in horror as the wicked buzz of death reveals that I have failed to replace the guard and have just shaved a chunk out of the front of my head. A reverse mohawk if you will.
So I tried to get away with it for a day, but the ridicule I had to endure from all and sundry was too much to bear. Someone at the tram stop gave me a dollar, ruffled the rest of my hair and said 'You're the real hero'. Or something like that - you get the picture.
So, the upshot of all this is that I've taken the unguarded clippers to the rest of my head. I look like a cross between a neo-nazi and a kiwifruit.
And DAMN it's cold.

xxx