The Virtual Pub
Come Inside... => The Snug => Topic started by: Pastis on July 08, 2010, 04:32:09 PM
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Prompted by MissC's recent escapade in the coiffure department I was wondering what the prevailing preferences were rubschin:
I've had the same woman cut my hair for over ten years and find it a pleasant experience; not only does she do it well but she's a source of the most intriguing local news and information, not tittle tattle but genuine goings on in the vicinity. I went to her originally because she's literally around the corner and the convenience was irresistible; she turned out to be good as well.
Remembering haircuts as a child, being nicked by the over zealous use of the clippers, the smell of Bay Rum and Brylcreem... I don't think I'd ever willingly go back noooo:
What think we?
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I love a good head massage whistle:
I chop and change ( geddit lol: ) hairdressers though , even if you do find a good salon the staff turnover dictates that it will not be the same when you return.
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Sounds like you have found a goodun Pastis best stick with her. Any chap spending half an hour or so, or however long it takes for the more folically challenged, with his head nestled between a pair of breasts whilst being shorn should surely be happy.
I had a disasterous experiance in my teens and have had a sort of phobia since. Having moved around rather a lot even when I found a good one, and there have been two that spring to mind I have had to move on and start the horiffic process all over again. scared2:
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Where does BM go?
Oh redface: redface:
Sorry
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These days I treat it as an evil necessity ~ Although years ago I used to go to a barber in Southampton (in Bernard Street, down by the docks, to be exact). That was a much more social event. Much card playing and wine drinking went on among the cognoscenti. The barber was a large Greek who had simply got off a ship one day and stayed. One helped one's self to a glass on entering the premises and just drank your fill. Cards (usually cribbage) and dominoes were played with an ever changing line up of players throughout the day and a "boy" was retained to sprint to the bookies and place bets for the regulars. Acceptance into the "club" was very much a matter of being known in the "right circles". Often one would spend an afternoon there without having a haircut but a comb was always passed through your barnet to justify the charge.
The price of the haircut was a matter of negotiation directly related to the amount of wine consumed, the winnings or losings at cards/dominoes/horses.
Since moving from the area I have never enjoyed having a haircut.
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My kind of place razz:
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A head massage happy088
Given the choice of nestling my head against the mincing Sergio or the delectable Krystina I'd go for the latter every time whistle:
I mean it's quite an intimate experience having someone's digits that close to you, specially if they're wielding a pair of scissors eeek: I prefer a build up of trust and showing of some respect at the very least.
Snoops, that sounds exceptional happy088
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I've never found another like it. noooo:
For football/racing fans with a memory Mike Channon ~ ex Southampton and England footballer and latterly a sucessful race horse trainer used to come in to get his locks tarted up ~ (he had a perm that his brother who ran a barbers in Bedford Place used to do for him) but Mick liked the gambling aspect. I was managing a local shop and Channon had a sports shop round the corner. The Southampton Club Captain, Terry Paine, had a greengrocers shop about two miles away at Foy's Corner, Shirley. (Info is for those that know the area) He was not averse to a drink and a flutter either.
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When I was about 10 or 11 I used to cycle to the barbers on a Saturday morning for a trim.
When my hair-cut was finished, there was always the "something for the weekend" remark. Everybody would crease up - it was little bit later that I found out what they were referring to.
I can't recall what my responses were, but they just made them laugh even more.
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When I was littlle, my Dad took me to a barber called Mr Trigger scared2:
He had been a barber in the army.
All he could do was shave heads.
When I was 10 he died. I was really pleased redface:
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At that age I used to be sent from school. My Dad used to say "Get to the barber tonight then come round to the shop" whilst we had brekky. I would
walk drag my feet to the barber shop that was a few doors away from Dad's shop. Always the same ... place full of smoke, men reading racing form and the barber would look up at my entry and say "Sit there young 'un" and indicate with a jerk of his head toward a chair ready equiped with a plank across the arms for short boys to perch on. There I sat until he deemed it time to deal with me ...... short back and sides with no argument. The only other thing said would be, as he started with the clippers, "Yer Dad's bin in and paid so don't even ask for any other sort of 'aircut".
I would then go round to Dad's shop and spend the time until he closed tearing up empty shoe boxes ready for collection and dusting shelves. Dad would then cycle home with me on his crossbar, until he deemed I was too heavy when he rode and I trotted alongside the whole 3 bloody miles to home.
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That's prolly why you are still here Snoops despite all the odds. razz:
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You could be right. rubschin:
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I've never found another like it. noooo:
For football/racing fans with a memory Mike Channon ~ ex Southampton and England footballer and latterly a sucessful race horse trainer used to come in to get his locks tarted up ~ (he had a perm that his brother who ran a barbers in Bedford Place used to do for him) but Mick liked the gambling aspect. I was managing a local shop and Channon had a sports shop round the corner. The Southampton Club Captain, Terry Paine, had a greengrocers shop about two miles away at Foy's Corner, Shirley. (Info is for those that know the area) He was not averse to a drink and a flutter either.
Sounds fantastic Snoopy
Although folically challenged, I go to a turkish barber each month, haircut, neck shave with an open blade and flame on the ears to remove any remaining bits, then quick massage of the neck and shoulders, totally relaxing and all for £8
turkish barber ear hair removal (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlmGGVQeU4E#)
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Ahhhhh! shocked003 The Skool Barber!
They used to arrive in a van (I'm sure) and on reflection seemed to be rather like the Lavender Hill Mob eeek: I can't remember the guy's name but probably will before the night's out. It was short back and sides on an industrial level. There was blood, greasy hair all over the floor, music coming from a transistor radio they'd brought with them and the gaffer used to have an untipped Player's dangling from his lip throughout.
Sheep shearing was what we called it. noooo:
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Right! Next? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... and so on ....
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I really must get all this into some sort of book for the kids. I've been beavering away at the family tree for years and now there is only me left who knows all the little bits of my history and that of the family. It has got to be recorded for those that follow or all will be lost.
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B@stard! Not you Snoops; I've just remembered his name ... Mr Marshall evil:
Bore an uncanny resemblance to this geezer too, and about the same era cry:
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fs4.postimage.org%2FPAU9r.jpg&hash=ebe1d9ba1323c0a40c98311f96e0de984f45710e) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVPAU9r)
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Where does BM go?
Oh redface: redface:
Sorry
He goes to the local livestock market where the auctioneer offers him 'something for the weekend' usually a goat, then onto the vets to get his nails clipped. eveilgrin:
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happy001 happy001
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Do me own...have done for years. No3 on top, No1 back and sides.
Although when I was younger I used to be mistaken for Jason King. Used to be quite pleased...until he was caught out in mens toilets in Kings Square in Gloucester evil:
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Bald then.
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Although when I was younger I used to be mistaken for Jason King. Used to be quite pleased...until he was caught out in mens toilets in Kings Square in Gloucester evil:
In 1975, he was arrested and convicted for an act of "gross indecency" in the toilets of Gloucester bus station. His homosexuality was well known in acting circles, where he was known as Petunia Winegum.
happy001
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Although when I was younger I used to be mistaken for Jason King. Used to be quite pleased...until he was caught out in mens toilets in Kings Square in Gloucester evil:
Pirate was "mistaken for Jason King" ..... who was born in August 1933.
That means that Mr Wyngarde (if he has been spared) is now nearing 77 years of age so would have been 42 when he was apprehended cottaging in Gloucester.
Dream on Pirate ~ either you are a lot older than you have previously suggested or you were a little boy who THOUGHT HOPED he looked like Peter Wyngarde.
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WHy is it always in toilets?? sick2:
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http://thethunderchild.com/VolcanoSeven/HellfireHall/Biography.html (http://thethunderchild.com/VolcanoSeven/HellfireHall/Biography.html)
eeek:
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LL does mine with 'lektrik clippers like...
When I came back to the UK the other week I popped the clippers in my bag so she could give me a trim before the funeral - not realising the clipper bag contained a mahoosive pair of scissors...
So, get to security, bag in the X-Ray machine and... nothing... ::)
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WHy is it always in toilets?? sick2:
I hope that is a rhetorical question or do you really want me to tell you?
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WHy is it always in toilets?? sick2:
I hope that is a rhetorical question or do you really want me to tell you?
All people go to toilets once in a while. If you are George Michael or Peter Wyngarde you could pick up blokes anywhere. Or got to Soho. I wouldn't hang around in bogs looking for a date,would I?
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That's the whole point ~ Public toilets are where the rough trade hang out waiting to be "picked up".
It's not really possible for a bloke to walk up to another bloke in a street and say "fancy a quicky?" without risking getting your nose broken.
In the public toilets there are locks on doors so that the act can, with luck, be private. Hardly give someone a blowjob in the street can you? A wink and a nod to someone in the gents is the usual pick-up and straight into a cubicle.
As for Soho ~ it's a fvking long way to go for a w@nk if you happen to be in Gloucester at the time the mood strikes. ::)
I know the whole thing makes some of you sick2: but accept it happens. If you don't fancy it then a simple "No Thanks" is all that is required.
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The werld is full of gay bars and pubs and such nowadays. I accidentally went into the Coleherene for a pint in the 70s eeek:
SO that option has been round for years, I am sure.
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The werld is full of gay bars and pubs and such nowadays. I accidentally went into the Coleherene for a pint in the 70s eeek:
SO that option has been round for years, I am sure.
Anonymity dear boy Anonymity. Trust me on this. I know.
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If you don't fancy it then a simple "No Thanks" is all that is required.
I found a more forceful "Fvck off!" was needed once, in a B&B, in Sweden eeek:
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lol: lol:
Some people just can't take rejection can they?
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lol: lol:
Some people just can't take rejection can they?
lol: Either that or my attempt at No Thanks in Swedish didn't work ;D
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Although when I was younger I used to be mistaken for Jason King. Used to be quite pleased...until he was caught out in mens toilets in Kings Square in Gloucester evil:
Pirate was "mistaken for Jason King" ..... who was born in August 1933.
That means that Mr Wyngarde (if he has been spared) is now nearing 77 years of age so would have been 42 when he was apprehended cottaging in Gloucester.
Dream on Pirate ~ either you are a lot older than you have previously suggested or you were a little boy who THOUGHT HOPED he looked like Peter Wyngarde.
::) noooo:
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What about the "et alia" ... whistle:
Massages ... cloud9: ... scared2: ... eyes: ... shocked003 ... 8) ... cry: ... noooo: ... and not forgetting surrender:
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Well observed happ096
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Thanks Unc. I had a beast of a massage once in the Caribbean, a veritable Mandingo pummelling eeek: I left the premises feeling like a cross between a slice of streaky bacon and plasticene confused:
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Seperated at birth?
Peter Wyngarde
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fs3.postimage.org%2FfHOe0.jpg&hash=614674fd84708ba7503242311c11bed5d597f74c) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=PqfHOe0)
Gary Glitter
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fs4.postimage.org%2FT1o9A.jpg&hash=5aee0151e8778f91fb4de66afaf0bb629fdfabaa) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVT1o9A)
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Thanks Unc. I had a beast of a massage once in the Caribbean, a veritable Mandingo pummelling eeek: I left the premises feeling like a cross between a slice of streaky bacon and plasticene confused:
I love massages ....I had one once where the slip of a girl stood up onto the bench and then started walking all over me eeek:, after the initial shock it was actually really rather pleasant. The things she could do with her feet ( sorry Snoops lol: )
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Love body massage. Best ones I ever had were in Thailand. Lasted over an hour and cost next to nothing. cloud9: I would have them on a daily basis, laying on bamboo matting on a beach. Would also have a foot massage in the evening. Comfortable chairs. Massage up to my knees, fell asleep every time. Note to self book another trip to Thailand soon.
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Wandering around London one day about 20 years ago and suffering from back pain I stumbled across a very posh looking massage place (it had a brass plate and copies of The Economist in the waiting room). I was offered rather more than I had bargained for eeek:
What is Breast Relief anyhoo?
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Shrugs:
This perhaps?
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fs3.postimage.org%2FgSVCr.jpg&hash=07dcc4734afae41870d5ef7df195cca1e33f3300) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=PqgSVCr)
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Mammagymnophilia whistle:
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How do you spell that? eeek:
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Take this test Nick, it ticks your boxes razz:
http://www.armory.com/tests/vocabulary.html
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Wandering around London one day about 20 years ago and suffering from back pain I stumbled across a very posh looking massage place (it had a brass plate and copies of The Economist in the waiting room). I was offered rather more than I had bargained for eeek:
What is Breast Relief anyhoo?
In plain English a T*t fvck. ::)
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Wandering around London one day about 20 years ago and suffering from back pain I stumbled across a very posh looking massage place (it had a brass plate and copies of The Economist in the waiting room). I was offered rather more than I had bargained for eeek:
What is Breast Relief anyhoo?
In plain English a T*t fvck. ::)
Yes, but the euphemisms are more entertaining ;)
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Wandering around London one day about 20 years ago and suffering from back pain I stumbled across a very posh looking massage place (it had a brass plate and copies of The Economist in the waiting room). I was offered rather more than I had bargained for eeek:
What is Breast Relief anyhoo?
In plain English a T*t fvck. ::)
Yes, but the euphemisms are more entertaining ;)
To you and to me yes but to those with a high degree of education but little or no street savvy ............. Shrugs:
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Wandering around London one day about 20 years ago and suffering from back pain I stumbled across a very posh looking massage place (it had a brass plate and copies of The Economist in the waiting room). I was offered rather more than I had bargained for eeek:
What is Breast Relief anyhoo?
In plain English a T*t fvck. ::)
Yes, but the euphemisms are more entertaining ;)
To you and to me yes but to those with a high degree of education but little or no street savvy ............. Shrugs:
lol: He might enjoy a "Trip-down-mammory-lane" eyes:
Anyhoo, he's probably busy with that vocab test whistle:
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Take this test Nick, it ticks your boxes razz:
http://www.armory.com/tests/vocabulary.html
eeek:
I have led a sheltered life eeek:
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We had worked that out. ;)