Ensure the man with the stupid piebald mullet who is cutting your hair can speak English, and is not pre-programmed by a Spanish hair dressing factory. I was not so lucky last week. Although the spaniard nodded and agreed with my trimming instructions, I should have noticed the signs of his programming – he kept blurting incomprehensible stanzas drummed into him at the mullet factory, and he would grin and nod when contradicting himself, me, or anyone else who was around.
Rehearse this chant, or get a placard – we need direct action in the salons across the UK:
What don’t we want?
Mullets
When don’t we want them?
Always