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Friday 31 October 2008

Another Hair Raising Halloween Story.....

I've been off work for the last two days so thus I have no stories from the restaurant floor. But instead, if you will indulge me, I offer you another story from the crazy days of Manuel's youth....

Last years halloween post was a picture of horror, literally a picture of horror. It has probably taken most of you a year to get over the sight of me lying drunk on the fireplace with my belly button exposed for all the world to gaze upon. Haven't seen it? Just click here, clicker beware though, it ain't a pretty sight!

But seeing as it has been a year I think you are ready for another snap from the Manuel family album.

behold the majesty that was my hair!
are you beholding?


As I've mentioned more than a few times before my hair was everything for me as a teenager. It really was all I had. My chums were bigger, taller, stronger and most importantly wittier than I. They had the quips, I had the quiff. I could fill you full of bunkum about it being my way of expressing individuality or how I was sticking it to the man but really it was all just about getting a girl, any girl. This, obviously, was a futile gesture as it got me absolutely nowhere with the ladies. Like it was ever going to!


But I needed it, the haircut that is. I need it too but that's a whole other post for another day. In my group of chums, associates and general ne'er-do-wells everybody had a thing, a bit, a role. Conor was the funny one. Daryl was the exotic one who had lived in the US, it also helped that he was rolling in money. Colm was the indie music one. And I was the one that lacked definition, so I shaved my hair and bought a can of hairspray. So I beacame the one with the hair. Or as I would become known as, toilet brush head. Ah the jokes and the constant ridicule, such happy days.

I heard them all from, "You just get a shock?" to "Oi mate, your hair is standing up!" to "What a wanker." Family can be so cruel. Oh yes the good people of Belfast weren't shy when it came to passing on their opinions and legendary wit with regard to my tremendous tuft. But still, I persevered with the daily ritual of back combing and spraying, so much spraying, a half can of hairspray a day to be precise. It's a good job I had a part time job. Although I did have to raid my grandmothers hairspray on more that a few occasions.

The rain rarely bothered it thanks to the hairspray but fire was a constant worry. For example there was the time when I was on the bus and the feral rats in tracksuits at the back took to flicking their lit cigarettes at it. I managed to get off the bus with my hair, but not my pride, still in tact.

I wasn't so fortunate though on one halloween night about 17/18 years ago. I was setting the mood, a goth mood, in my bedroom of the flash apartment I was living in. The Cure were crooning away on the stereo (crooning is probably not the right word) and the incense was masking the smell of teenage boy angst. I had a girl in my room and all was well. My hair was looking particularly erect and my velvet caftan-esque top topped of my ensemble perfectly. I had just opened a fresh bottle of cider and we were settling down for an evenings fumble when she suggested we light some candles and switch out the light. Now I wasn't so sure about this as I was pretty sure the red bulb in my lamp was providing all the moody lighting that was required.

But what was I gonna do, say no? I don't think so. So I got some candles and shoved them into the numerous empty cider bottles that littered my room. I didn't smoke back then so I had to borrow a light from Daryl who was having a larger and more exciting party in the sitting room. The music was getting gloomier, which was great, and the cider was taking effect, being a useless drinker it only took an bottle or two to have me on my ass. She was giggling and chatting away as I carefully lit the many many candles. I'm talking a cheesy rock video amount of candles, November Rain springs to mind.

I lit all the candles at the front of the table and then reached across to light the candles at the back. And then it happened, in a wooooooosh it was gone, my hair, my beautifully crafted hair, my raison d'être, the only thing that separated me from the rest of the mouth breathers out there was now nothing more than a charred lumped of nothingness on my singed scalp. The half can of recently applied hairspray acted as the fuel that burnt my hair and ruined my life in two seconds flat. To add insult to my burnt injury the young lady I was hoping to fumble with, because that's all it would have been, doused me in cider to put the flames out. So there I was in tears with no hair, no booze, and no bloody hope of a fumble on this the most magic of nights for Goths. Just fucking brilliant.

The girly screams of horror, my voice was yet to fully break, attracted all my so called chums to my room. Of course they thought I was up to no good with the young lady but immediately their expressions of concern turned to ones of hilarity as they copped a load of my seared skull. There was huffing and moodiness for the rest of the evening, an evening I spent on my own except for the gloom rock stylings of Captain Bob. So it wasn't all bad.

In the end the hair was shaved off completely and I grew out of the army fatigues and velvet caftans. But I loved my hair and despite it never really doing the job I grew it for I would do it all over again, if I could grow hair again that is. Which I cant. Obviously. So if you are lighting candles this Halloween night and are in hope of a fumble do yourself a favour and light the candles at the back first......

So spill, who else had a whackadoo haircut?

29 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

Megan McGurk said...

Poor Manuel!
Oh, you must have felt like the biblical Sansom. It must have reeked in your room.
Was she kind afterward?

Mr. M set one of his old girlfriend's hair on fire during wild sex in the vicinity of candles. That's probably worse.

Manuel said...

medbh: she didn't tick around once the dark and moody cloud of rage descended.....which was the right thing to do...I was always happier on my own with the cure and a diary anyway.....

Anonymous said...

i have never had a wacko haircut! although there are ghastly first holy communion pics of me at home with a fringe starting at the back of my head, sexy!

what are you dressing up as, manuel? i'm putting the finishing touches to my Lara Croft :D

Manuel said...

byw: dressing up as? I'll be playing the role of an angry young waiter.....this is different to normal as I normally play the role of an angry old waiter......

Anonymous said...

i've encouraged my son to grow his hair long and free... while he can still do so... and i made him take it down for his high school picture, knowing that someday he'd mourn the loss of his gorgeous, wavy locks - which currently drape to the middle of his back...

understand your angst. for me? it was my gigantic breasts... fortunately? they weren't flammable...

Anonymous said...

Although I didn't have any particular haircut I didn't like getting my haircut at all so I fit in the 70's with my hair and bangs quite long.My hair pretty close to just above my shoulder and also a start of a moustache when I was 13.
Quite cool I was.

The Mistress said...

Did you know that last year I right-clicked and saved your belly-button pic?

I'm just waiting for the right time to post it.

Twenty Major said...

Haha, incredible hair. I did have a mighty quiff at one stage but it was never as upright as that.

Sharon McDaid said...

Man alive that is hair to be proud of!
And such a sad story about the fumble rumbled.

At least your youthful do suggested an aura of coolness; when I was 14 my mum convinced me to have my short hair permed as it was, said she, too lank and dull. So I ended up with granny curls. Oh jez the indignity! But I got used to it, grew it longer and like every girl in my school, had BIG hair, long, thick and curly. We looked like spottier, less pretty extras from a Whitesnake video.

Red said...

I had a bad experiance with hair dye once....left my hair a lovely green colour

Silverstar said...

Oh heavens, I'm so old I've had all kinds of bad hairdo's. The bouffant and the afro were the worst. Pro-Tip: Straight, fine, blond hair looks like shit in an Afro. And the perm lasts about two weeks. Fortunately, I don't believe there are any pictures from that era left.

Manuel said...

daisy: crikey! ah yeah get him to grow it and enjoy it because you never know when you will lose it....[runs of with tears in eyes]

steve: cool indeed......mustache at 13 though...eek

mj: give it a year or 2 and you will be able to create your own manuel from the bits and bobs posted about the internet......

twenty: it was a big hairy sign of desperation...

sharon: bwahahahaha......ah yes the 80's were not a good time for hair.....

red hair...: christ!

silverstar: you need to find them......bwahahaha

Anonymous said...

That certainly is an almighty quiff Manuel, pity it was a cock-blocker.
I had the typical early 90's do of short back'n'sides and a gelled fringe. Oh yeah... sexy.

Manuel said...

sheepo: it wasn't the hair that was the cock blocker.....there were many other reasons too.....

Blondefabulous said...

I swear I thought that was a photo of the top of Vanilla Ice's head! Don't know who that is? Google it. You'll hide in shame......

Anonymous said...

I used to have a floppy mop back in the early 90's until someone in school called me Damon Albarn. That was time for a change.

Unknown said...

I take it you've seen Eraserhead, David Lynch's first film?

Anonymous said...

You know that song, I almost cut my hair, you do, don’t you? Stephen Stills I think, well there, that’s my comment. I should have too, apparently it would have lasted longer. I have none now.

But are you really Morrissey?

Unknown said...

Sniffley, I think it was Crosby (definitely the craziest of CSN&Y).

Anonymous said...

Ummmmm. I had the mandatory 70s pudding bowl cut as a kid. But that was just the way it went...

No other real hair disasters - unless you count the Fergie bow as hair accessory. I think that was mandatory at some point during my childhood. Oh god, that was hideous.

Mum also refused to allow me to get a perm when I was 11 ('But all the other girls are getting them. I hate you!' etc etc.) Looking back at class photos, I'm so glad she didn't let me. I may have looked like a nerd but at least I didn't look like a poodle.

paddy said...

Yes the quiff - I tried to style mine after Billy Duffy out of the Cult but given the curliness of my hair ended up looking more like the dad out of the Commitments.

There was another incident where I tried to give it a side part. No joy at all. In the words of one of my so called mates 'I will not be seen out with a cunt that has a head like a Koala'.

Native Minnow said...

I'm sorry, but I'm totally laughing at your misfortune right now. Although, I am sorry that you weren't able to seal the deal. That's something I can definitely empathize with.

savannah said...

THAT.WAS.SOME.HAIR.


*speechless*




(xoxoxo we've all had hair disaster, sugar)

(in addition to everything else going on in my life, i'm letting my curly locks grow out. i'm in that bad stage now, too long for short, too short for long *sigh*)

(i'd take a picture, but i'm too upset already)

Jenny said...

I just love the word whackadoodle.

Mudflapgypsy said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Mudflapgypsy said...

Just removed a speeling mistake. Tsk.

Did you frequent Lavery's back bar or the back alley?
Did you ever go to the Plaza?

We may have crossed paths.
I had hair like Daniel Ash of Bauhaus and. Oh the joys of spending upto two hours of getting the hair just so.
Now I just wash 'n' go.

Manuel said...

muddy: yes...on both counts......did you go to the limelight on a thursday night?

Mudflapgypsy said...

Yep, sure did!

I stopped the upright hair by late 1990 and grew it long.
Bloody hippy.

Was in a band that played some Thursday nights in the Limelight. in 1991--1992. Something to do with alien worship...
Oh, to be young again.

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