The locks were growing long.

The eyebrows were starting to resemble the entirety of the Brazilian rain forest.

I was struggling to see the pints from the shorts.

It was a drastic situation.

There was only one thing for it.

A return to Vidal of Portobello.

It was time.

Time for the chop.

An appointment was made and I duly made my way up to The Coolest Hair Salon In The World on Lennox Street.

It was good to see Vidal again. He was in good form.

First up was a most pleasant wash and shampoo downstairs with The Korean Girl before being whisked back upstairs and on to the main task in hand of attempting to put some respectability to the space between my ears.

This was no ordinary task. No ordinary man is capable of accomplishing this Herculean like feat.

Vidal of Portobello was the man for the job.

Coffee was served and Vidal duly set to work. We had the good fortune of having Tom Waits and the classic ‘Closing time’ album to keep us company as he went about his business. As ever the chat flowed easily between us as we caught up on various events over the festive period, family related and otherwise.

He worked away diligently and before I had time to say ‘a good haircut is your only man’, I was sorted.

Vidal of Portobello had done it once again. Another miracle had been performed before my very own extremely dodgy eyes.

I had been somehow returned to a state of devilish handsomeness.

Women of the world beware.

My Good Self is once more on the prowl.