The fool on the hill

By mooncoin

Over my head

I was in Headington, Oxford and decided to get my hair cut at lunchtime. The only place I could see was one of those types that have design and some prosaic English bloke's name in the title and all done in trendy chrome 3D signage.
I went in and asked the teenage girl with way more makeup than her young skin needs if they could do me a trim.
"If our junior stylist does it it'll be 24 and if you have our regular stylist it's 34" she said.
At this point I should have said that I only wanted the ends cutting or some such witticism but instead I asked what sounds, on the surface, like a pretty stupid question.
"Is that pounds you're quoting?"
She looked a bit exasperated and confirmed the units we were dealing in.
I declined the offer, thanked her and walked out the shop.
It did sound like a silly question - it's not like they are going to be accepting Zimbabwean dollars is it?
But, in reality, any chap that pays thirty odd quid for a haircut has got to be pretty ridiculous hasn't he?

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