Ah, Mr Bond, I’ve been expecting you. Actually, wait a minute. Your appointment’s not till tomorrow. Well, my one o’clock cancelled so I can fit you in. Bit overdressed for a haircut, don’t you think? I mean, a tuxedo? If you’re going somewhere later you’re gonna wanna have a shower anyway or your neck’ll be well itchy. Okay, you’re the boss.
You’ve got a nice tan, Mr Bond, where have you been on your jollies. Really? All those places? And all in a week? What were you doing? Following the leader of an international drug cartel in a deadly game of cat and mouse filled with sex, violence and witticisms? Are you pulling my leg? Ha! I knew you were. You’re a card, Bond, you’re a wild card and you’ll need to be dealt with. Ha! Yeah, you can have it. It’s one of Marge’s. She says it to our eldest. Drives the girl up the wall it does. Alright, all done.
Before you go, it’s funny y’know, every couple of times you come in here you look a bit different. I’d almost swear it’s a different bloke each time. Must be going daffy in my old age. You have a nice day now.
On the next History’s Hairdresser – A king with six wives needs a short back and sides.