Perfect Hair.

So I was getting a hair cut today, the barber had apparently successfully lopped off the mass of hair I went in with down to a presentable level when he got out a tiny electric razor and started carefully trimming and primping round the edges. As I went in with a hair do a bit like a hay stack after a gale I would have thought he could see there was no chance I was going to maintain his careful perfectionism. Still, fair play to him, perhaps it was professional pride. The youth that replaced me in the chair had immaculate if slightly immobile hair that looked like it had been cut with a precision laser. He took off his T shirt before he sat down as he said he didn't want to get hair on it. He then proceeded to pose like a body builder and was mightily impressed by what he saw in the mirror. I suspect he appreciated the barber's fussy attentions more than I.