Well, I decided I needed a few highlights to fit in in Scotland. All the scottish gays have them, and safe in the knowledge that No One Who Knows Me was around, off I went to try and find a barber's who do them in Glasgow.
Alas, no. Everything else in Glasgow is sickeningly cheap, but highlights appeared to cost £80. Even at a place called Deb's.
So, I went to Boots, bought a kit (one containing bleach, a swimming hat and a femidom) and went to work. The results weren't bad, if a little lopsided.
Not to worry, I figured - I'll just dab some of the spare gunk on the right side to even it up, leave it in at the cinema and nip to the gents after an hour to wash it out.
Everything went without a hitch - no one even commented that half of my hair was purple, slimy, and fizzing. But disaster struck at the interval - no mirrors in the gents. So, I figured I'd leave it till I went home. Hmmn. Hmmn. Not actually such a good plan.
I look like I'm wearing a run-over tabby. But let's not dwell, eh?
2 comments:
why would you be looking in a shop that sold green waterproof jackets for country folk/ chelsea tractor drivers to get your hair highlighted?
or do you mean a barbers :)
oh. my. god. you're so right - barber's/barbour's. I apologise. Obviously never try to update blog while watching House and answering questions from flatmate about the plot...
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