Three months ago I was badly clippered by a cheap barber. He created a gap of about a centimetre between the top of my ears and my hairline. I asked for a grade four; he gave me a grade one. It may not come as a complete surprise to learn that the appearance of tall skinny guys is not much improved by a close crop. I emerged from the barber’s neon-lit establishment looking like a smackhead who had just joined the army.
I vowed to visit a proper salon the next time I needed a cut. Which is a different kind of embarrassment: it’s impossible to avoid the blow-drying and the straightening. It only took two days until my hair reverted to wavy normality, but for those two days I wanted to beat myself up every time I saw my reflection.
So, to cut to the chase, this David Mitchell monologue resonates with me.
David Mitchell is evidently a good name to have if you want to achieve something. I’m reading the the latest book by the other David Mitchell: The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. I’ll leave the book-reviewing to the pros, but if you like fiction, you’ll like David Mitchell.
The David Mitchell video is a little creepy. I think it is the lack of audience laughter I’m not used to.
Hadn’t occurred to me. I’m oblivious to canned laughter. But it’s not that far removed from his Peep Show character’s extended monologues. Do you watch Peep Show?
More than 50% of the time a barber fucks up my sideburns whereby they either just take them up to my temples or finish them in a jaunty angle. Twits.