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A distracted history of mop-chopping

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Humans, it would seem, have always had a strange propensity to mess around with perfectly good and functional parts of their anatomy regardless of any apparent pointlessness or consequences of doing so.



Victorian era women constricted their waistlines with corsets until their intestines were forced so far northwards that they caused acute tonsillar strangulitis.

Today toxic injections of the Botulism organism are used to
“pout-erise” lips, and surplus buttock lard is excavated and harvested to be used as backfill for natural laugh lines on faces.

Bald old men still persist in wearing expensive toupees which, even from a distance of fifty yards, resemble dead gerbils draped carelessly across the top of their heads.

This brings us to our history tutorial for today;

The History of Hairdressing

It is probably fortunate that luxuriant long hair only sprouts from the head, providing an unchallenged monopoly for hairdressers.
Had it been biologically otherwise, their dominance in the field might have been challenged by an assortment of other occupations such as African Underarm Hair Plaiters and Brazilian Shearers.

Be that as it may.  Some things don’t deserve further thought.

Ever since Eve discovered Garnier Hair Conditioner (new and improved formula containing aloe vera) on the top shelf  in  aisle 17  at her Garden of Eden supermarket, and Randy the caveman slicked back his locks with newly-slaughtered mammoth grease, women and men have been messing around with their hair primarily to attract the opposite sex.
(Note;  Or same sex. The Bucket is proudly an equal-opportunity publication.)

The first professional hairdressers were recorded in the 4th century AD, although there is much statuary evidence to suggest that hair decoration was also previously practised by the ancient Egyptians and Persians.

The pinnacle of hairdressing stupidity was reached in England and Europe in the 18th century during the reign of Louis XVI (1774-92).

French coiffeur-to-the-stars Marquis Marcel de Gaysnip overindulged in champagne during lunch at La Cafe Escargot then staggered back to his nearby salon and invented the “coiffure a la frigate”.
He piled Mrs DeGaulle’s hair ever upwards until it resembed a monstrous rat’s nest, then he anchored a model warship on the top using pins, combs and half a dozen six-inch intra-cranial galvanised self-tapping screws.

The design went out of fashion in 1796 following a successful legal class action prosecuted on behalf of the fifteen thousand and seventy six French men who had split their skulls open whilst making love to women adorned with sharp-prowed model warships.

Let’s face it, I am jealous of people who have hair.

In 1964,  just to be a really groovy little gof,  I adopted a Beatles style ‘mop-top’, but 47 years later there are only 17 very long strands of gray hair left which I use to brush-over the top of my scone to remind me of that youthful magnificence.

(Oh bugger it!….One more just dropped out while I was typing that last paragraph and now the bastard’s got itself entangled around my mouse-ball and the cursor’s jiggling all over my desktop like a rutting rabbit.  Please amuse yourself for a minute while I remove, clean, polish and  replace my ball……..maybe you’d like to hum a few bars of Stars and Stripes, God Save the Queen or Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite while you’re waiting.)


I sincerely apologise for wasting your time like that. I know you’ve got more important things to do.



This is probably a long shot, but I’m wondering if you might just have a recently deceased gerbil in your possession that you might like to donate to a worthy cause?

If it’s not too much trouble, I’d really love to have one which has executive-gray streaks down the sides which would both enhance my public persona and match the contrasting roof colour on my red Mercedes convertible.

About GOF

"Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it, depends upon what you put into it." (Tom Lehrer)

14 responses »

  1. I don’t know what the thinking is behind a man getting a hairpiece – they always look awful and obvious and give women attacks of giggles rather than giddiness.

  2. I have no dead gerbils, but I have 3 cats that shed in varying shades of gray.

    • Thank you GOM…that might work….then I could take off my feline-toupee at night, put it in my lap while I watch TV and stroke it to replicate that feeling of wellbeing you get from patting a cuddly cat.

  3. After years of growing out this crazy messy mane of pain-in-my-ass, I’m gonna milk it for what it’s worth until it falls out, which should be any day now, considering how I abuse it.

    I have an old gray scarf, whose tassels might just serve splendidly…

    “amuse yourself for a minute while I remove, clean, polish and replace my ball…”
    Lord, GOF! Tee. Em. Eye! 🙂

    • Actually I’m not doing too bad apart my “Prince Charles” bald spot on the top…..time will come when I’ll just shave off whatever little hair remains. I was a great admirer of Kojak.
      I’m thinking an optical mouse might be a good investment. Save me having to go into all the gory cleaning details. 🙂

  4. Hahahahaha!
    Tonsular strangulitis.

    I shall gather vole pelts as the cat drop them at my doorstep. I’ll even leave the little feets attached. That should make for a great conversation starter with them dangling from your hairpiece.

    Love the history.

  5. Mr FD had a tuft of hair on top that was forever waving in the wind, so we “suggested” that he shave it off, and he was released from its demands. Now he has something akin to a monk’s do and actually looks years younger.

    • Mr FD is now my follicular role model……it’s only a matter of time before I have to (in response to “suggestions”) take some drastic action like that.


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