My Expenses Shame

Today I had a long overdue hair trim. It was good riddance to the Roy Cropper look I have been sporting over the last month or so. I have also shaved away the goatee that has adorned my face, and having done so, I’m not sure why I ever grew it in the first place. In retrospect the most positive thing I can say about it, is that it was the closest my mouth has been to a vagina in quite some time. Ha ha - actually, that’s not a bad line. If only I’d thought of it three months ago there might have at least been some humorous point to carrying my ludicrous facial growth around.

The problem is I am not a vain man. I fail to gauge any self-awareness about the way I look until I am smacked in the face by my own ridiculous, erm, face. The latest occurrence of this happened last Thursday. A promoter from London had arrived to see a show she had booked with us. That’s right - of all the places of the tour she had chosen to visit Wolverhampton.

In order to somewhat compensate for such misfortune, it was agreed I would take her for a curry on council expenses. I know this is not a very popular thing to say in the current media climate. But it was, after all, a short-term expense with a greater long-term intent. A good impression is all for the good of the Wolverhampton entertainment scene. And let’s be honest, nepotistic bribery is the best we can possibly aspire to offer.

As we sat down for our meal, things genuinely seemed to be going well and we had a good chat. In fact, there were even compliments being bandied about. Obviously having no concept of how to process a compliment I could feel my cheeks flushing a little. Or at least that’s what I thought was happening. But one thing I had neglected to anticipate was the fact that currys are generally quite spicy, and I had inadvertently seemed to have picked one of the hottest on the menu. There were whole chillis in it for God’s sake! Not that I realised they were whole chillis. This only became apparent to me after I’d eaten some, and my initial flush had developed into a spontaneous and un-quenchable sweat-fest. I felt sparkles appear across my face and in a concerted effort of damage limitation, I hurried to the toilets and try and dry the moisture off my head with toilet roll. But now my shaggy unkempt hair was now completely flattened to my head. As I returned to the table the self-consciousness of my evident perspiration made me sweat even more. As I felt the little runny liquid trails sliding down the back of my neck, I knew I had already used the get-out toilet guise once, so to announce I was instantly returning would have looked weird. All I could do was sit back down and admit defeat, as my hair started to resemble some sort of bizarre skull cap; albeit a skull cap where the material is starting to look quite worn and thin around the forehead area. I started making weak excuses about being too full, for I could not possibly risk devouring any more torturous spices.

On the way out I happened to catch my reflection in the mirror. As my hair hung limply and greasily down the side of head, I couldn’t help thinking that I looked rather like a man who you would probably wish to avert children away from in the street. Believe me, this is not the ideal situation to become aware of your need for a haircut. I had been wishing to make an impression that night, but I am not sure the sweating and slightly sinister man was quite impression I had intended. I am just grateful that there were no expenses-claim-hyped journalists or photographers out that evening. This would not have been an endearing look to accompany a “Council worker in curry shame” headline.

In future, just to be on the safe side, I should take any promoters or agents for something less spicy. And I will have an appropriate haircut with which to eat it. Can’t think of many other types of restaurants in Wolverhampton though. Might have to be Subway sandwich or something. It goes without saying, I will hold the jalapenos. In fact to be on the safe side, I’ll probably just have lettuce and nothing else. It may not be glamorous, but at least it is safe.