George Orwell's haircut

I've got a new haircut. I LOVE IT. it's a sort of 1930s haircut, short back and sides but messy on top. It's great. George Orwell would approve.

I can't remember that last time I was so pleased with a trim. To add to the fun, if I apply a bit of Brill Cream I can sport a proper Chap Magazine approved hairstyle. Ding dong.

Speaking of hairdressers. Has anyone noticed that the can have a wealth of nicknames that make them sound so dangerous? For example:

'Oooh who is your stylist? That look is fabulous?'

Can become

'Nice barnet, who is your scissorman?' Or my personal favourite 'I like the new look, who is your cutter?'

It makes it sound a bit Guy Richie.

I celebrated the new haircut by going and buying some new fancy pants and another tight t-shirt. They are my new weakness. I've still got to shift a few more pounds, which isn't helped by me needing a near constant supply of chocolate while I write, but still. I'll just hit the gym harder next week.

I've also been playing around with vegatables a lot. Not in a sexy way, but with my new grill machine. Courgettes are amazing grilled. So good that when you eat them you have to do a little dance. I eat them a lot now.

The cottage is far more pleasant in the summer. You can forgive it a lot more. I'll be almost sad to see the back of it now. Although not so sad to see the back of the garden. The hedges needs more attention than my girlfriend. Also concrete is no replacement for grass. I don't think anyone would consider and afternoon lounging around on the concrete with the Sunday papers.

The Devil's Interview

No news again. The exciting job emailed me to say they would be disappointed if I took a job somewhere else but didn't actually make a formal offer so it was just a frippery. I think they are waiting for someone who looks after the money to say 'yes you can employ this person' rather than being coquettish through choice.

I've accidentally grown a beard again, honestly you leave your face alone for a few days while working on some things and BANG you look like the sort of chap who would fight for the round heads in the English Civil War.

Speaking of the English Civil War 'The Devil's Whore' is excellent. It's worth watching just for the clothes but it has a story as well if you like that sort of thing, although it seems that the Civil war was a very windy place as the actors are constantly having their hair blown about. Maybe that was the cause of the problems, messy hair.

Army Hair

I'm not entirely sure about my new haircut. I think is because it's so shockingly different. It's short, very short, could join the army short.

Almost since I moved to London I've been growing my hair. First in a office appropriate way and then once I left the dull job and joined the fun one in a roguish way. So I've had big hair for ages, and now it's gone.

I don't even look particularly foppish anymore, I mean, unless I'm wearing a cravat and a waistcoat. Good friends don't recognise me, even at close range - I can stand right next to an old chum and they still won't know who I am. One friend last night thought that I was trying to start a fight with him until I spoke and he realised I was just trying to say hello. Men don't do direct, prolonged eye contact with strangers.

The gig last night was fun, blisteringly hot but good. Stephen Merchant is very nice and extremely tall. Not much else to report really.

Right I'm off to see if my hat collection still fits.

The meaning of yes

Yes is a strange word. I think of it as more absolute, but to some people it is relative. I say this because when I think about the last six months or so and how many times the possibility of life-changingly good news has being dangled in front of me and then snatched away.

Some of these events have got to now what I call the 'unofficial yes' or 'faux-affirmative' stage where someone who could make your life loads better has said 'yes' but what they really mean is 'no, but I won't let you know this for a couple of months - ho ho ho'.

As you can imagine this can make a chap a bit miffed, but I shall not give up!

No. I shall get a haircut. My flowing, Spinal Tap-like curls which are now below shoulder height are going to get a serious trim. I may even look like a grown-up soon, it is a mathematical possibility at least.

Oh and I've got another stand-up show tonight. it's in Islington and get this, it's completely sold out. Although this is probably due to the fact that Stephen Merchant, who is a proper famous is also on the bill rather than the lure of my freshly shorn locks.

Comedy clubs, dramatic rain and hair.

Last night I went to see someone else from the comedy course do her first stand up gig. She was awfully good, definitely one of the high-points of the night. The routine she did was one she had tested on the course so it was interesting to see how she had changed and tweaked it to make it better. She also looked even prettier than I remembered which was more then a little bit distracting but not to the detriment of her comedy.

The venue was tiny, only a little larger than an average sized front room and just over half the audience were people I had invited - if we hadn't gone on mass it really would have only been waiting performers and assorted hangers-on sat down watching the stand up.

I've got my own stand-up debut booked now. So I have the leg shaking terror of standing up in front of a room of strangers to try and entertain them to look forward to. Hurrah. The night was also interesting because it marked the sewing together of a few different groups of friends, they all got on splendidly and we drank a lot of booze while giggling at the acts.

As we left it was proper dramatic rain, the sort where a character in a film has a life changing experience. I suggested that we should dance about in it like the fellow in Singing in the rain but this was vetoed and we got a cab instead. It's probably for the best, while 2008 is going rather well I don't think it's quite to the level where a chap feels the need to croon in precipitation.

Since this is a week of new beginnings I'm v tempted to get a proper hair cut, while the slightly scruffy hair look has been my thing for a while perhaps it is time to tame it a little bit more aggressively so I look like a proper grown up. The hair growth started as rebellion against an old job and now that is ancient history maybe it is time to change it.

Hair

I had my hair cut today for the first time in almost a year. It's a strange cut, I went in with various pictures of regency dandies and it turned out pretty well. At one stage I realised I had Anna Wintour's hair cut. But that was just a stage I had to go through when trying to leave 'Cousin it' behind and embrace a brave new world of hair.

No-longer will I look like a surprised tramp or a springer spaniel. Nope, now I have the hair of a 1960s housewife crossed with Mr D'arcy.

It's a start I suppose.