1. I left a good pile of hair of varied hues at the hairdressers which I know for sure she used to knit a grey/black sweater for herself, or as spare locks for the unfortunately-balding, or to apply to her cat after it had been shaved for an operation just to save it from getting called 'Crop Circle' by the other cats in the street. I even watched her assistant sweep all my hair up into a corner ready to bag up when I'd left for one of these purposes. Did she thank me and offer to pay me, considering I was walking out of her shop with less hair and colder ears than I came in with and she was much the better off? No. She wanted twenty-five pounds. That's blind robbery, that is.
|'Hm. She won't notice if I take a couple of extra inches. Anyway, she's British. |
She'll just say, 'Oh yes, it looks lovely, thanks so much' and hand over the cash.'
2. Chiropodists take people's toenails as well as bits of their corns and callouses without so much as a thank you. They snip and they clip and put it all into little pots without a shred of gratitude. No doubt they mix all our bits with almond oil and Vaseline to make revolutionary exfoliating creams which they sell to Lancome, and do we get anything out of this? No. (Although I do LOVE to think of those Hollywood celebrities rubbing old bits of my heels into their thighs the night before the Oscars.)
3. Dentists must make a packet. Not only do they take out our teeth, which they probably use to make costume jewellery necklaces or sell to Eastern European denture companies, but they also suck out a good litre of saliva with that tubey thing. And do they show you where that goes? No, they don't. Into some container, I bet, only to be re-used as mouth swill with a bit of blue dye added in to make it look new. I know their tricks.
|I just placed a bet with the dentist that I'd get a good three litres of spit out of you. And I'm winning.|
4. I went to hospital last year and donated an ovary and matching cyst which weighed 2 kilos and I paid a lot of taxes to get this treatment. But did anyone say, 'Thank you, Fran, for your nice big cyst which is now going to be sent to Damien Hurst for his new art exhibition of internal body parts so here's a million pounds, just a small cut of what he'll earn from it?' No, not a dicky bird.
|'Well, you know how it is. Damien offered us a back-hander, and things in the NHS are tight.|
I prefer a nice Constable with a few hay carts myself, to be honest.'
5. What about when you get waxed? You sacrifice a world cruise so you can pay for a few sessions of waxing, which is basically someone putting you through agony while they pretend not to smile, then what do they do with all those strips which have your hairs clinging to them, eh, eh? Well, I'll tell you. Seen those adverts for flytrap sticky strips which you put up in your kitchen in the summer? Wondered why they only ever seem to have caught the flies' LEGS and not their whole bodies? Now you know.
|If only they'd known they were supporting the fly-catching industry, they'd have seen it all in such a better light.|