Last Monday, Jorge went for a haircut to the same girlie he used before. Now, bear in mind, we live in what we call 'the village'. For a 'village', there are about 100 hairdressers, so one usually finds the hairdresser (or barber, but here they're usually unisex) quite empty.
Anyhow, Jorge gets to his hairdresser, only to find a queue a mile long, all guys. What's with that? So he goes banking and returns some time later to find the queue is longer. Jorge is not the world's best waiter.... er.... translates to 'one of the most impatient guys I know', so he decides to try another day. All three occasions he went there afterwards, the girl was either closed or queued. Ok, she gives a good haircut for guys.
Jorge, I must add at this point, is obsessed with his hair. The moment it gets beyond the 'convict' stage (my term for it), ie. extremely short, he's off to remow the sparse lawn. Frustrated, at this point, he decides to try a new hairdresser and pops in next door to the butcher on the corner where there is a smallish, but decent-looking hairdresser.
*fast forward to an hour later* Jorge arrives home. I take one look at him and gape. It is the worst haircut I have ever seen on a guy! Shorn, with little bits sticking out all over... no, not the new spiky fashion.... little bits! I was shocked. Jorge was disgusted. Tat found it amusing (wonder why).
*fast forward to a couple of days later* Jorge goes over to the pub as usual. An hour or more... or maybe a lot more, he comes home with a story. His 'hairdresser' is apparently the butcher's brother and is..... *** wait for it ***.... a butcher!!! He qualified as a butcher and later turned to hairdressing!
Gives new meaning to having your hair butchered..... ?!