As I mentioned in an earlier post, I thought I’d convinced a perfectly sane [well, moderately sane] creative to get a perm.
And why would I think that?
Because I’m an immature, manipulative bastard.
But I was sort-of wrong … because thanks to some misunderstanding, they gave him cornrows rather than a perm.
Sure he looks stupid.
Sure he looks like some white, American, fratboy trying to look like Snoop Dog.
But that isn’t good enough. I paid for a perm and so I demanded a perm.
And you know what … despite already looking a total twat, he agreed, which is why he went back in yesterday for another hair humiliation which ended up looking like this.
I know what you’re thinking … it looks pretty good. And you’re right, it does.
Sure, he looks like Kenny G, but it’s nowhere near the embarrassment I was expecting.
Or should I say ‘hoping for’.
In fact, I would say it’s a vast improvement on how he used to look.
I don’t mind telling you, I’m utterly devastated.
Before I saw the results of the ‘proper perm’ I had written this:
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Nick Finney is a giant among men.
Actually, he’s more than that, he’s a gladiator of masculinity.
A man so full of testosterone, that Hugo Boss want to kick Gerrard Butler from fronting their latest preposterously ridiculous campaign.
Probably.
So many of todays heroes and stars claim to have unlimited levels of power and influence … but Nick Finney trumps all of them.
Each and every one.
And that’s good, because with that hairstyle, he’s going to need something to hang his self-esteem onto given he’s never going to get laid again.
Ever.
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But the fact is, he IS going to get laid.
Sure, they might all be a bunch of Brian May groupie-types, but the reality is I’ve helped him get more action than he will know what to do with.
As Viz magazine once said in one of their utterly brilliant spoof ads … he’ll have to beat them off with a shitty stick.
The only positive out of this – and I use that word very cautiously – is that when my son saw him [Jill brought him down because lets face it, his inheritance was paying for it], the reaction wasn’t one of admiration, inspiration or pride, it was this …
Yes, Mr Curly Head made my son cry.
A lot.
His curls literally scared my baby.
The bastard.
But all that aside, I have to admit defeat.
I wanted this to end with him crying a river of tears but it ended up with me [and my son] sobbing in disappointment.
Karma is a bitch.
That said, I have to applaud him … he’s a total legend for doing it and not chickening out which is why I can honestly say his madness has given me one of the few high points in my pretty crappy year.
Mind you, when I think that I’ve inadvertently ensured 2015 is going to be the year he has more action than Ron Jeremy I feel sick … which is why the only way I’m able to cope with it is to think of this …
