His name was Tom, still is I suppose but that's beside the point. I told him straight up I wanted a cross between Dolly Parton circa 1968 and Joan Jett anytime. He kept running his fingers through my hair and staring at me intently in the mirror. He said 'It might be useful if you offered a little bit more of an explanation'. I told him it was more about the vibe than anything else, vibe and volume, no way anyone could say there was a Dolly Parton influence without some height on the hair.
An hour later I walked out of there a whole lot happier. It is impossible to be morose when your hair is a cross between Dolly Parton circa 1968 and Joan Jett anytime which is handy because I've been morose for about a fortnight now. I got to the point where I either had to do a Brian Wilson and take to my bed properly for a number of years while house becomes overrun with bastards or I had to get the fuck out of my bedroom and go kick some stuff on the street, like garbage bins, small children and seed pods.
I was struck down by some kind virus and I was already on holidays with the specific intent of laying around and doing fuck all but still, I found continuous complete inaction was a path not to bliss but to morosetown. Fortunately I am clever enough to have made the following astonishing discovery. The only cure for virus/holiday continuous and complete inaction is a Dolly Parton/Joan Jett haircut. This is a discovery science will not soon forget.
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