Urdu?

Bert wants me to cut his hair.

In the century we've been together, I'm the only person who has ever had the privilege of cutting his hair. Actually, he's quite funny (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha) about anyone even touching his hair. I've got one of these and every now and then I like to sneak up and have a go on Bert. It's quite dangerous though - he is liable to hit out before he can stop himself.

As well as being untouchable, Bert's hair is quite mad. You can't really tell from the Seine photo (and I don't want to put another photo up because Bert does have the right to remain anonymous - hehehe), but when it grows longer it starts to look like Krusty the Clown's ... (I tried to choose a Krusty image with a typical Bert expression. This one is just after he's made his regular order with the Agra, and is giddy with anticipation).

Anyway, I'm not sure I'm going to cut his hair until I'm good and ready. I've been asking him to come for a 'walk and talk' for weeks now, and he is always too busy (scared, more like). So he can grow a bit Krustier for a while. Just until he's a bit less busy.

He's never very grateful in any case. For someone who looks so Krusty, he is very fussy about the length and in particular always thinks I cut it too short. A couple of haircuts ago, he was moaning and moaning about how long the bits on the floor were looking, and wondering out loud whether I was scalping him. I was getting crosser and crosser, and so was he. Then Louise piped up, "Oh mum, that is quite short..." (it really wasn't in my opinion). So when he had a real go, I ended up lobbing the scissors across the room (taking care to avoid the children) and saying the usual "Fine, f*ck off then" type of thing. (I have realised since starting this blog that I need to use more imaginative language when we argue. And stop wondering why the kids swear too much.) Anyway, neither of us wanted to apologise so he had to wander around with half a haircut for a week or so.

(He gave in first.)