The Man With A Long Chin's Diary




11 April 2000 - BARBER

I've got a new job running a local hair salon. Originally it was called Prime Cuts, now it's called Hairton-Hairs (Cut-ups) 12.

I think the new name is a lot more unusual and will help the salon stand out during the National Hair Cutting Championships.

I'm confident that the salon can win the chapionships as I use a special pair of novelty scissors, like the ones mayors use to cut red ribbons. It makes cutting a little unwieldy, but so far I've only decapitated one customer.

12 April 2000 - BARBER

Running my hair salon was going fine until the area manager forced me to employ his idiot nephew, Young Johnson, as an assistant.

That idiot Johnson doesn't know the first thing about snips and cuts, but luckily for me he's so stupid I can have a laugh at his expense.

Last night, for example, I asked him to clean the floor of the salon, and explained that to do this he had to eat any hair that he found. I left him to it, but returned an hour later to find him chewing on his own abdomen.

13 April 2000 - BARBER

My smooth running of my hair salon is continually disrupted by my idiot assistant, Young Johnson. I entrusted the gurning sap to cut a customer's hair while I went to the bookie's, and when I returned he's "nutted a hustler's bear"!

I tried to punish Johnson for this, but he fed me some sob story about being slightly hard of hearing.

I proceeded to test his hearing, and when it turned out perfect, Johnson switched his story saying: "But it's bad in my brain".

14 April 2000 - BARBER

Young Johnson, my idiot assistant, is continually disrupting my attempts to run a successful hair salon.

Last night I entrusted him to perm a custmoer's hair while I got drunk, and when I returned he'd weaved a number of very small dogs into her thatch.

Luckily, the customer didn't notice. When I asked Johnson what he thought he was playing at, he denied they were dogs and insisted they were merely "pretty boys".

17 April 2000 - BARBER

I've had to close my hair salon, after my idiot assistant, Young Johnson, began experimenting on the customers.

The final straw came when, while styling a gentleman's quiff, Johnson injected him with a mutant strain of the flu virus.

Almost immediately, he injected the customer with an experimental cure, but the cure caused an unexpected allergic reaction, and the man's ears swelled up like German sausages.

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