Fan da man
When I lived in Greenwich a few years ago, a dearth of decent local hairdressers saw me resort to the occasional trim at Fan the barber's on East Greenwich High Rd, near where I lived. I think he's still there.

Fan was a short, fat Chinese barber - good in an emergency but rudimentary in the extreme in almost every way. Bare shop - one barber's chair, two or three seats for waiting, none of your magazine shit here. Curtain across a doorway for the back of the shop, nothing on the walls. This was, without a doubt, a no-frills haircutting operation - also reflected in the price.

But most rudimentary of all was Fan's command of the English language - he was stereotypically Charlie Chan-like to a bizarre degree. Simple communication beyond basic barbershop terminology required such effort that any conversation soon ground to a bemused halt. One of the reasons I liked going there was, in fact, the distinct lack of insincere enquiries about holidays and shit.

One visit I was foolhardy enough to attempt further communication with Fan and as soon as the scissors were waving around my head I said to him 'So Fan - what've you been up to then?'

'Oh, good, good', he retorted. 'I go ho'lay'.

This is progress. 'Holidays,' I say. 'Where to - anywhere nice?'

Big mistake.'No', says Fan. 'Not ho'lay - ho'lay!'

Already I'm floundering. 'What - you went home?', I say, guessing wildly.

'Noooo, HO'LAY!', he repeats, staring at me like I'm an idiot. Which I really am for starting this fucking conversation in the first place.

This continues for what seems like an eternity, with each of us getting more exasperated (him) and looking like a complete cunt (me) with each failed interpretation I make.

It only reaches its climax when Fan starts bounding around the empty shop like a kangaroo, hands outstretched before him, screaming: 'NO, NO - I GO HO'LAY! HO'LAY!'

Well, how was I to know that once a week Fan the barber dressed up in jodhpurs, boots and a riding hat and went horse riding, on a mangy horse somewhere in a field in Charlton?

When I finally figured it out, the haircut continued in complete silence, as if nothing had happened.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 2:43, 6 replies)

What the fuck
did I just read?
(username failed moderation, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 10:33, closed)

its a slow week

(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 10:38, closed)

Is this something to do with shagging prostitutes?

(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 10:55, closed)

Obviously so little of consequence has come on this week's QOTW
that you seem to have forgotten the original topic. Never mind.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 12:39, closed)

DONKEY SEMEN

( .Yeti., Mon 1 Sep 2014, 11:51, closed)

Thank you.
Not for the shit story but for reminding me that if I don't understand somebody I should tell them so.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Mon 1 Sep 2014, 18:12, closed)