Comments on: A matter of discipline http://www.sindark.com/2008/09/06/a-matter-of-discipline/ Temporarily Torontonian Sun, 12 Feb 2012 01:04:46 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: Litty http://www.sindark.com/2008/09/06/a-matter-of-discipline/#comment-50594 Litty Thu, 11 Sep 2008 18:29:15 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/?p=3324#comment-50594 Barber : All right, I confess. I haven't cut your hair ... I hate cutting hair. I have this terrible un-un-uncontrollable fear whenever I see hair. When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool! She said the only cure for it was to become a barber. So I spent FIVE GHASTLY YEARS at the Hairdressers' Training Centre at Totnes! (He grabs the customer's coat and stares pathetically into his eyes) Can you imagine what it's like... cutting the SAME HEAD for five years? (He lets go and stares into space.) I didn't want to be a barber anyway. <a href="http://orangecow.org/pythonet/lumberjack.html" rel="nofollow">I wanted to be... a lumberjack!</a> (A visonary glow suffuses his face and he begins to walk slowly out of the darkened shop.) Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The Fir! The Larch! The Redwood! The mighty Scots Pine! (He tears off his barber's jacket to reveal a tartan shirt and lumberjack trousers underneath. The singing of a choir begins to rise up in the background...) Barber : All right, I confess. I haven’t cut your hair … I hate cutting hair. I have this terrible un-un-uncontrollable fear whenever I see hair. When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool! She said the only cure for it was to become a barber. So I spent FIVE GHASTLY YEARS at the Hairdressers’ Training Centre at Totnes!

(He grabs the customer’s coat and stares pathetically into his eyes)

Can you imagine what it’s like… cutting the SAME HEAD for five years?

(He lets go and stares into space.)

I didn’t want to be a barber anyway. I wanted to be… a lumberjack!

(A visonary glow suffuses his face and he begins to walk slowly out of the darkened shop.)

Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The Fir! The Larch! The Redwood! The mighty Scots Pine!

(He tears off his barber’s jacket to reveal a tartan shirt and lumberjack trousers underneath. The singing of a choir begins to rise up in the background…)

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