At my barbers they play Only Fools and Horses on
a looping DVD. All the
time. I sit and
watch while I wait my turn, chuckling occasionally, despite myself. Welcome back, says the barber to the guy in the
chair as he whips the cape off with a flourish and invites him back into the
world of the respectable haircut.
Then I’m in the hot seat
and I ask him whether he ever gets sick of Only Fools and Horses. No, not at all. He doesn’t actually watch it. He’s too focused on what he’s doing. He has to wait until he gets home to watch
it properly.
He’s a funny guy, of Italian descent. His colleague at the other chair asks him
if he’s looking forward to his holiday in Barbados. No, this is a holiday he remarks. Cutting the hair of fine gentleman like me.
