Women are great, aren’t they? I mean, you gotta love women, haven’t you? Especially if you are a bloke. Or a lesbian.
OK, they can have their bad points: they can be infuriating; annoying; irritating; exasperating; aggravating and maddening. But, on the whole, they’re still pretty OK.
But what I want to know, is why do they moult so much? Especially the long-haired variety. Why?
I used to go out with a girl who had beautiful, long, silky auburn hair. But whenever we’d go out somewhere in my car, I’d spend ages afterwards pulling long strands of hair from the Halfords luxury velour, African car seat cover on my passenger seat. Honestly, it looked like I was dating a Red Setter.
And the two women in my life now aren’t much better. Both have quite long hair and on both of them, it seems to fall out like they’re undergoing chemotherapy or something. Which of course, thankfully, they’re not.
Each weekend, I find myself pulling ropes of mangled and knotted hair from the bathroom plughole, all covered in soap and gunk. It’s quite gross.
In our spare bedroom – where we store all the junk and the DVDs and where I keep the bulk of my electronic components – there is a small dressing table with a little chair, where the girls sit and brush their hair. I’ll admit that it doesn’t get hoovered much in there, because there is so much crap, that you can hardly see the carpet sometimes. But, when I’m kneeling on the floor whilst searching through my component drawers for some transistor or other, when I stand up I’ll have legs like a yeti.
There is never any Sellotape in this house, because most of it goes on de-hair-ifying my trousers!
And women, of course, cost a fortune to look after and keep, don’t they?
It occurred to me that I could have a got a similarly hirsute effect just by getting an Afghan Hound.
It’d certainly be a lot cheaper.