HAIR TODAY – GONE TOMORROW ?
BY BILLY KIDMAN
There’s a lot more to the practice of hairdressing than meets the eye. They all think it’s just lop off a bunch of hair, and there it ends. But do you ever wonder where it goes?
Is it dumped in the bin straightaway? Ha! Get off it. That’s only the beginning.
It’s brushed up carefully and put into a plastic bag more often than not. Why, you might ask, are they so careful about a bunch of hair?
Well the Cornrow Chronicle can exclusively reveal the truth behind this matter. They send it off to facilities all around the country, around the world. These places are shrouded in secrecy. Why?
The secret lies in the hair, it can grow. If you plant it you can grow more. Why do you think ostriches put their heads in the sand? So they can come out with luscious locks to attract a mate.
Hairdressers sell their hair to farmers that operate behind closed doors and high walls. I doorstepped one and he refused to comment. I approached the postal service’s administrative department about the practise and they denied anybody sending any hair anywhere. Are they involved? Probably.
However the Cornrow Chronicle has anonymous hairdresser sources that confirm that all hair from hairdressers is sold, all except for the beard hair. Why?
“That dirty barren shrivelled up stuff is filthy, and it only leads to bad things,” said the source.
“Is it any coincidence that all hipsters happen to be horrible people? No, it’s the beards! They burrow into your chin and jaw and it takes control of your brainsese,” they continued.
After some research, it was found that some people can refrain from the evil powers of bearddom, but most of us?
Think about any film in popular culture:
Liam Neeson in Batman? Bearded. Liam Neeson in anything else? Good guy.
Robin Williams in One Hour Photo? Bearded. Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire? The good guy.
Jafar in Aladdin? Bearded. Aladdin in Aladdin? The Good Guy.
And the terrorists all have beards so that must mean they’re evil too. When’s the last time you’ve seen a terrorist without a beard?
There’s a definite conspiracy here, and we’re going to find it.
Watch this space.
“Billy,” said Jumbo, the coot headed editor, as he bummed out his cigar. He held the piece out at a distance from his face, his eyelids almost pursed shut in an attempt to read.
“Billy, I’m gonna be honest, even for us this is a bit of a stretch. And we do celebrity divorce predictions every New Year. You know how many we got right last year? Zero. Out of 1200. That shows how speculative and outlandish this piece of tripe is.”
“Jumbo, I’m your best journalist here – Why would I risk my career too publish a story about hair?”
Jumbo fingered his large golden pinkie ring carefully as he considered the consequences of what he was about to say.
“I’m going to have to let you go Billy,” he said. “Pack your things, and see a shrink”.