Waxing Lyrical.


I’m currently auditioning a new brand of hair wax.

It’s not actually wax, it’s clay. Applying it is an all-new experience. I feel like I’m taking Tony Hart’s friend Morph, crushing him between my fingers, and rubbing him into my hair.

(Watch out, Chas: you’re next.)

So far, I’m not convinced. It either looks all right, or I look like a dick. More than I usually do, that is.

The fact that I need a haircut doesn’t help. It’s just too unruly. Any attempts to resemble a Doctor-Who-era David Tennant come out more like a windswept Wolverine.

At least it’s keeping me off the street. It's also keeping me away from the potter's wheel; you can't say fairer than that.

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