The Rudest Hairdresser in Britain!

I found myself at a loose end this morning, after a great rehearsal last night, and after dropping P off at school (dressed as The Mad Hatter for World Book Day). Following recent observations on the length of my flowing silver locks, etc. I decided on a visit to the barbers – City Barbers in Portslade, folks!
I went in, there was no-one waiting. A young lad emerged from the back room (the usual proprietor who does a good haircut not there I guess). I noticed an overpowering STINK of meat and garlic. Cooking smell, not just a lingering aroma on the clothes/breath. Vile, and VERY strong. I went to sit down, but didn’t think it was strange of me to enquire “What IS that smell?”
“Chicken” he said “from the kitchen”.
“What, are you cooking chicken for breakfast?” I enquired.
“Yes, don’t you like it?” – it was about here that the conversation started to wierd me out.
“Not really, it’s a bit foul” – I tried to introduce a Carry-On pun into the convo.
“Don’t you like chicken then?” – here we go. I explain that actually I don’t eat meat at all, but if I did I’m not sure I would want to smell this in a hairdressers at 8.30 in the morning.
He snapped at me – “What do you eat then? Chips?”
At this point I was sitting down ready to be haircutted. I glimpsed his fiery eyes in the mirror, got up and left, muttering about the smell.
Frankly, I’m still a bit freaked out, and I suppose the search for a new hairdressers is on…

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