My hairdresser is an 18 stone Hell's Angel, with a foot long goatee and a ton of tattoos, who runs his own security firm and spends my haircuts regaling me with tales of fights he's been in, limbs he's broken (other people's), cocaine fuelled bikers' parties he's been to and bizarre sexual shenanigans he's got up to. But he gives a helluva good haircut and it's a lot more fun than 'are you going anywhere for your holidays?'. I still tell him I hate it every time it's done - I don't, but I like to tell him I do just for a laugh :)