I have great hair. No ponytail. Where I now live there aren’t any Barbers. They are all fucking salons asking if you want coffee. To which I reply, yes, but it won’t stop me going mental if you make a **** of my hair.
My Mrs came with me once and has never done it again. That was in one of those Turkish barbers at my brothers, where the twat made an arse if half of it, I told him to stop and thst he was getting fuck all money, had to go into Glasgow to get it fixed.
First time I was nearly in a fight about a haircut and if my Mrs wasn’t there it would have been.
When I walked into my usual barber to sort it he was pissing himself.