State of our unruly barnets is at Chewbacca tipping point

Those of you with exceptional powers of recall may remember that curious occupation of days gone by ... the hairdresser. Apparently they are poised to make a comeback. What a sight that queue will be. Like a Usual Suspects line up of Chewbaccas.

Obviously, the two metre social distancing rule poses problems for the hair cutting industry. I mean, they’ll have to shout “Going anywhere nice for your holidays this summer?” Either that, or buy a megaphone to conduct their banal social interrogations. Oh, and it means they can’t get close enough to cut your hair. Though, given the state of my unruly barnet, a hedge trimmer would be more effective than scissors, thus negating the need to stand too close.

Hopes are that Boris will (guided by the science, of course) ignore the scientists and let them loose on our heads - presumably in full Hazmat suits. But, according to a survey that landed in my in-tray today, hairdressers nationwide are set to miss out on more than £80million in tips due to the push for cashless services.

We forget that many industries rely on tips to survive. Waiting staff, taxi drivers and hitmen, to name but three.

Journalists too. The cash thrown my way always comes in handy. I’ve lost count of the number of times a crowd has gathered outside my house shouting “Oi, Ord, this is for that column in the paper last night” before showering me in coins. The rotten fruit and rocks, I could do without, but cash is always appreciated.

The extra cash would come in handy at the moment. My eldest (Bradley, 19) is heading to university and is putting the squeeze on for funding. I mentioned his university ‘must-have’ list previously. Bedding has appeared on it. My ex-wife is insisting we buy him a clean, fresh duvet and bedsheets for his trip.

For what is going to happen to those sheets during his three years at university, newspapers and straw bedding is probably a better buy. Honestly, king size 400 thread Egyptian cotton bedspreads will be wasted on him. Better off thinking of his bed covers in much the same way as you would the bottom of a budgie cage. Same story with the cutlery and crockery he wants. Can’t we buy some sort of trough?

I suspect my plea is likely to fall on deaf ears. So next time you see me in the street, put the rotten tomatoes and half bricks to one side. Chuck the coins instead. Like the clipper queens of hairdressing, I need ‘em.