Something to declare

Comedian DannyRobins is at the barber's abroad, and a little bit frightened.

NEVER GET YOUR HAIR CUT IN ANOTHER language. lt seems like such a good idea. A quick trim to smarten yourself up for all those holiday snaps. What could go wrong? It’s not brain surgery after all – well, not unless they go really crazy with those scissors. Remember though, when you say “a bit off the sides and back please” to someone who speaks an entirely different language, that could just as easily be: “I’m feeling adventurous, can you dye it pink and shave off my eyebrows?”

There are certain activities where being able to speak a common language doesn’t seem so important. Ordering food, for instance.

On holiday, I’ll happily point at things on the menu and take my chances with what comes. Or playing sports, or dancing – I’ve done the lambada with people in foreign nightclubs, letting our bodies talk through the international language of boogie. In my case, mine was saying: “Please can I go and sit down now, you’re embarrassing me.”

The difference is those are harmless things. Well, all except the lambada, where I gave myself a nasty groin strain. There’s another level of activities that I definitely wouldn’t attempt unless I understood exactly what was being said. I’m talking things like major surgery, sky diving, feeding crocodiles, and picking strange mushrooms. And, to that list, I would add letting someone near my head armed with scissors and a razor.

In case you’re wondering, I speak from experience. The country is Italy, the year is 1998. I am on holiday with my first serious girlfriend. On our first day, I stop by a charming, old-fashioned barber’s for a quick trim before all those romantic holiday photos – just a little off the sides and back. Hold on, are those blood stains on the floor? Oh no, too late, he’s got me in the chair. And he’s armed. Why am I suddenly reminded of the film Marathon Man?

My heart sinks as the elderly barber points with shaking hands at faded photos of 1980s-era male models with mullets and perms and manages the only English I will hear out of him. “Which one do you want to look like?”

Clearly, my “please, none of them – let me and my fringe escape and I will give you anything you want” was not understood. Half an hour later, I finally escape minus my dignity, most of my hair and a small part of one ear. Holiday ruined. It’s hard to feel romantic when you look like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. twitter.com/danny_robins