210909 – 16. Hair today, gone tomorrow
Whoops,
It’s 10:39 on Monday morning and I’m unwashed and at my desk at home. It would appear that yesterday afternoon, without forewarning and sensible reasoning, I shaved all the hair from my rather large head. I have checked several times this morning and unlike yesterdays morning stare into the mirror there was no happy, long haired, whimsical man looking back at me with sadness behind his puppy eyes. Now that I think about it, that wasn’t the scene at all yesterday morning, it was just me with long hair, but then that’s not the point at all. The point is that yesterday afternoon I, Andrew Beattie, did something totally spontaneous whilst sober and took a set of clippers to my head in a most savage act of barberism. Even as I sit here now I can’t for the life of me begin to imagine why I did it, I can’t remember wanting to do it and I didn’t seem to question what I was doing as I was doing it, but I clearly did it as my head is cold and I have no hair. What could that possibly mean?
Well for starters it means that I am a dickhead. I clearly harboured some unconscious urge to do something a bit radical and kooky and decided in a moment of madness to alter my appearance drastically. I mean I could have just gone out and bought a pink T-Shirt or even got a tattoo, now that’s kooky and spontaneous, a tattoo. But here’s the problem, I don’t even remember consciously deciding to shave my head at any point. Jesus, I might be losing my marbles. If that’s the case I’m glad I didn’t just go and get a tattoo because who knows what I might have walked out with. I may well be sat here with long hair and a big penis tattooed on my left forearm. But then that would mean that I have subconscious urge to draw a penis on me surely? I’m pretty sure that isn’t the case but then who knows what my subconscious is capable of anymore after yesterday’s sterling performance.
That still doesn’t answer the questions of why I did it. I have been a little under the weather over the weekend and so maybe in my fragile, wheezing and spluttering state I let, for just a moment, a deep urge to take over my physical being and shave my head. That is of course total bollocks, as an urge can’t shave a head, only a man with an urge can shave a head, although that reasoning defeats my initial argument doesn’t it? Or maybe, just maybe, that little cabal of theirs has been giving me subliminal messages, Derren Brown style. Wait a minute, I watched Derren Brown a couple of nights ago. This shit is deep. I can see their plan unfolding quite nicely now before my very eyes. It’s brilliant and as far as I can see it this is exactly how they did it:
1. ‘They who shall remain nameless’ enlisted Derren Brown to pass subliminal messages through his programme that only I could see, or not see, as the case may be.
2. Towards the start of last week I was fed meals that had been tainted with a form of flu virus, the AB strain, which would render me helpless to the power of Derren Browns mind.
3. A situation was engineered that would force me to watch Derren Brown on that fateful evening. Homemade Pizza was the bait and I took it, and chewed it down fiercely.
4. The plan was now set and whilst Derren fooled the nation into believing he could make them stick to the sofa he passed along some subliminal messages only to me. I’d have to watch it again but if I did I’d probably now notice him saying ‘shave’, ‘head’, ‘Andrew’ and ‘Beattie’ on several occasions. I’d surely have noticed the last one but he will have disguised it by making it sound like ‘meaty’ or similar. God he’s good.
5. Over the weekend the clippers were placed all around the house and in whatever room I was fucking around in. Meanwhile, I am getting sicker, coughing and sneezing and losing my last grip on my free mind. I’m also betting that comments like ‘hair today, gone tomorrow’ were made just within earshot of me.
6. The plan was now in its final stages and some key phrase or other was uttered to me. I’ll bet it was whilst the football was on as ‘that was a close shave’ seems a likely possibility.
7. I took the clippers out and shaved my head.
8. Somewhere in an underground layer the echoes of deep evil laughing reverberated around thick stone walls.
Well there that is, the plan in all its glory. Hats off to them, they have proven to be a highly resourceful and persistent foe indeed. If this writing business doesn’t work out I could always go into the private detective business hey?
Anyway, whatever the reason behind it, I now have a shaven head. I’m also at the end of my self-imposed drinking ban and so shall be having a couple of light ale’s over the next week with my £10 winnings in my pocket and a spring in my step, assuming I get rid of this damn cold that is. That is all from me today. It has been a pleasure sharing with you as always. Until next time,
Don’t be fooled by Derren Brown, it’s your hair he’s after.
Tatty bye,
Andrew