Taking it Turkish Style

I've a nasty feeling my sins are fast catching up with me. A new 'Turkish style' barber shop has opened a couple of streets away from my house. Clearly, they're closing in on me after all those terrible things I've written about the Turks, both here and over at The Sleaze. Perhaps they've traced my IP address - time to change ISP again! But just what is 'Turkish style' haircut, I ask myself - do you get taken roughly from behind by a man with a huge moustache and shoes that curl up at the toes whilst he trims your sideburns? It could give a whole new meaning to the term 'short back and sides'. It's a recipe for disaster, if you ask me: wild bum shagging and big scissors are a dangerous combination. I shudder to think what the consequences of asking for a 'number one' or a 'number two' would be.

Anyway, I'm sure that it is only a matter of time before they come after me with their heated moustache curlers and sharpened kebab sticks. I've seen the surly looking bastards loitering outside the barber's shop, twirling their 'taches whilst they tout for custom. Believe me, I'm not exaggerating about those bloody Turks - some of us haven't forgotten the atrocities commit ed against captured Allied troops at Gallipoli in 1915. My mate Two Ton Toby from the chippie reckons his Grandfather - who was held as a prisoner of war by the Turks for three years in the Great War - was haunted by the tickling sensation of a phantom big moustache at the back of his neck until the end of his days. He'd sometimes wake up screaming, flailing wildly at some invisible assailant attempting a rear entry. The poor old boy also suffered a severe adverse reaction to the sight of a fez - he once put his foot through the screen when he saw Tommy Cooper on the telly. Trust me - there's a very good reason why the Greeks refer to buggery as 'taking it Turkish style'!