Open letter to hairdressers
Just in case you missed it, it is summer. As a matter of fact, today, temperatures reached a record 30C. It is
hot swelteringly hot. Now would be a good time to ensure you maintain your personal hygiene particularly in the parts of your anatomy that will inadvertently be in the general vicinity of my olfactory organs.
At the first whiff of the rather unpleasant odour from your underarms as you leaned over to wash my hair, my nerve endings went into overdrive as they tried to unscramble the frantic message my brain was sending them.
“Shut down olfaction with immediate effect,” it yelled to the already overworked nerves. The poor things had their work cut out for them trying to regulate my body temperature on such a hot day. So it took them slightly longer than normal to respond to this command.
If I wanted to break the world record for holding my breath, I would have trained as a free-diver and perhaps made some money out of it. I have no wish to keel over and die prematurely with my head hanging over a sink and my hair dripping wet! Imagine what my epitaph would read?
Here lies The Wordsmythe
Knocked out by foul-smelling underarms
I avow this is no myth
They might as well have been firearms.
Please, do the needful.
Thanking in you advance for your usual co-operation.
P.S I must not fail to add that you did a cracking job on my hair. I have no complaints regarding that.