snip

I do not trust hairdressers or barbers. In 1989 I asked my usual haircutting-entity for my usual shortish-all-over child-haircut but instead received a 3mm crewcut. In 1992 I had the same again and started to grow my hair in protest. In 1993 just as I had achieved chin-length hair I went to the barber in town at lunchtime and was given a mullet instead of the "just a bit off the ends" for which I had asked. Finally, in 2004 I went into a barber up the road for a similar trim-the-split-ends job before I went on holiday but was instead given an undercut. In 2004. When I was 28. FFS. As a result of these abuses of trust I now create a little beastie made of hair in the bath once a month or so.