A hairbrush

Updated: Oct 24

Oh hair brush, you’ve

served me so well.

Because of you,

I have no tangles to tell

of in my wavy locks that have,

because of lockdown,

grown so long, even

covering my frown.


You’re overlooked

as an essential item

until you’re lost and

I have to buy one.

De-tangler, paddle brush or vented,

you’re part of me

and I’m never tempted

To go natural, preferring


dreadlocks, all waxed together with

my hair in knots.

You have no taste

that I can sense

but if you did it would be

a fragrance, even insence;

jasmine or orange, maybe

apple. Sweet and pleasant,


never offensive.

Looking at you is

not inspiring me to

take a photo and

make it viral. However you

will always be needed until

I die or I’m bald. So take

heart, knowing you

are loved.



14 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

The demise of spaffer is a long haul; he doesn’t want to go at all. No longer in number ten, he can’t accept he’s a has been. Squatting at Chequers with all his pals, arranging titles to give them all

They’ll be here today, better get to work. Floors cleaned, beds made up; I can’t remember when I last worked so hard, for free-really, it not like me. Time to stop, have a cuppa, have a pee. The music

Hot June, hip Paris, hurrying and harassed, as we run to board the cramped and crushing metro carriage. And then, a voice from behind-‘Excuse me sir, but would you like to sit here? You look tired, an