1. Broken Clothes.
There’s a shop called Take2 that sells clothes that are a bit broken for really cheap. It’s about as close as Liverpool comes to having a charity shop. The only problem is I always buy things with intentions of fixing them before wearing them but never do.
I once went to a party in a shirt I bought from there that had two buttons missing from the chest area. All I needed was a medallion and I could have justified a disco.
2. An Entertaining Haircut.
You remember all them times you’ve looked at me and thought, “Wow, I wonder who cuts his hair?” Yeah, you know. That time. No? Not once?
Well, anyway. I get my haircut on Bold Street.
Just at the top there is a small arcade that mainly contains shops that sell hats. Having a thriving hat shop right next to a barbers is about as good an advert as seeing the barber with a white stick, but I still go there.
There is a reason for this other than a haircut though. The guy that works there has the most hilariously twisted logic of anyone I’ve ever met. He throws away the usual clichés of boring hairdresser conversations and replaces them with conversation that leaves you holding back laughs in fear of him cutting off your ear.
I could have done a “5 Reasons… I still go to a bad hairdresser”, but for now we’ll just limit it to a couple of the best.
One of the first times I noticed he was slightly mental was when I sat down and saw one of those signs you find in workplaces ‘You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps!’ This is fine if you work in an office with a few people you think are wankers, but for professional purposes call them ‘characters’. My problem here though is that this guy works on his own. This takes away all possible humorous undertones that were intended, and just makes me think he bought it himself, probably putting it up and saying to himself ‘What am I like, eh?’
My favourite incident to date however was when my flatmate went to see him after Christmas. We’d both been for a haircut before the festive break and he had gone to great lengths to tell us that this was the year. It was the big one. Time for a life change; he was going to give up smoking for his new years resolution. When my flatmate went down for his first cut of 2011, he brought this up. The barber explained it was going well and had a novel way of keeping off the fags. He kept a packet on the desk in front of him to remind him what he used to be tempted by! That’s like holding AA meetings in a pub. Brilliant.
Needless to say I went a few days later to find him smoking outside the arcade. All was right with the world again.
And so, if you ever see me and think my haircut isn’t quite up to scratch, I get it done for the entertainment.
Although I mainly go there in the day, Bold Street also has the nearest cash machine to concert square. This has the double effect of not only meaning it is nearly always surrounded by drunken students, but that tramps and buskers also congregate there, giving it it’s own little eco system of young males begging for females attention, tramps begging for the young males attention (and money), and the buskers craving everyone’s attention (and money). All serenaded beautifully by a verse of Wonderwall… And whatever the busker is playing at the time.