I was getting a haircut yesterday when a man and a woman walked into the barbershop. The guy cutting my hair called out hello, as he’d done for everyone else who entered and took a seat, waiting their turn.
The man entering acknowledged with a hello back, then said loudly, so all could hear, “Yeah, I used to get my hair cut in Switzerland, right, but now I’m here.” He started chuckling with his lady friend as they find their seats.
“Right,” said my barber, with an odd look.
“Sorry, did you ask why?” the man queried.
“No. I just said…good.”
The wanker returned to chatting with his lady friend. I presume that he was pleased that he had informed the whole shop of his international coiffure habits, but disappointed that he didn’t get the chance to explain why he was now slumming in Ealing.