I went for a haircut this week but Paul, my Barber of choice and all round good bloke had a queue of about 10 thumbing their phones. I was in a hurry so couldn’t afford the likely 4 hours wait but also desperate, as I urgently needed a tidy up.

Over the last couple of months, I’d seen a few guys looking quite sharp coming out Marmaris, the new Turkish Barbers in Blackwood, so steeling myself – you know what it’s like when you risk trying out somewhere new, I thought I’d gave it a go.

No queue and so straight in the chair and good as gold the lad did a great job, even if he was frighteningly fast, but to be fair, with a different set of electric clippers for almost every cut he made, I was well impressed.

Eyebrows, the lad said finally and I’d hardly nodded before zip, zip and they were done too

Just as I thought he’d finished he uttered a Turkish phrase hersayi yak which of course I didn’t understand but not wishing to be impolite I smiled and sort of half laughed, as you do.

Pulling what looked like a long shaggy headed bud stick out of a packet, he twiddled the end with his fingers and then dipped it in some blue fluid. I though, perhaps it was for wiping on my newly trimmed eyebrows but the next minute he flicked his lighter and the thing suddenly transformed a flaming torch.

Somewhat taken aback and before I could say ‘’what the Marmaris’’ he leans over me and proceeds to set light to my bloody ears.

Now if you’re wrapped in a plastic gown that’s been taped to your neck, wedged in a chair with your elbows immobilized and you’re 3 feet up so can’t reach the ground – there’s not much you can do to defend yourself, so despite visions of Sweeny Todd and memories of numerous grizzly Gangster Movies flashing whirring through my mind, terrified, I had to stay put.

A whoosh, whoosh the flaming bud stick flicked past my ear and whoosh, whoosh again, a smell of burning and a couple of flaps of his hands on each lug and it was all done.  Amazing – hairless, if somewhat hot shell likes.

Thanks, I croaked, still recovering from the shock and staring through the lingering twist of blue smoke at my red eared reflection in the mirror, I paid the man and relieved to be still alive, skedaddled.