Another haircut? And head for the risk of a new close shave?

The last haircut I had in the United Kingdom was aged 17.

In England, hairdressers are nearly always women. But this fateful day, it was a man. And he was big. Every time he leaned forward to get something, his stomach would hit the back of my head, knocking me forward. Or one of his man boobs would rest on my ear. Which happened. A lot.

Worse than this, he had a big mouth. "Mate, do you like to go out?"