Fucksakes! Where the FUCK did you get that haircut from?
Those were the very words bawled across the print room floor by Ian Jackson* - a particularly mouthy yob of a printer.
Andrew Allison*, the wearer of said haircut - which, to be fair, looked like the aftermath of an imploded albino guinea pig - and a genuinely warm, funny older gentleman to boot, came over, sat down, took out his pipe (this was the eighties) and said:

"Well Ian, it's actually quite a strange story.
I was in Paisley and thought I'd take a few moments to get my hair cut (scrapes out the bowl of his pipe with a penknife).
I was standing near Central Road and wandered along to Gilmour Street Station where there was a polis standing about looking bored (takes out his baccy and proceeds to shred it into the bowl of his pipe).
So I asked him where the worst barbers in Paisley could be located (starts tamping down the baccy as the rest of the printers and assistants wander over to listen in).
At first he looked at me as if to ascertain whether I was extracting the urine or if I was under the influence and then advised me to go under the bridge and along toward New Sneddon Street, past Maxwell Street (starts to light his pipe), onto Carlisle Street and thence to Love Street, (puff, puff) along Love Street (past the park), left onto Albion Street and then left again onto Blythswood Drive. Ah, gottit (The pipe is lit)!
Anyway, says the polis, if you keep going down there you will find a wee close on the left hand side and that is where Auld Blind Freddy has his shop."

By now there must be at least 15 blokes listening in and there are 3 four colour Heidelbergs clattering away with no one minding them.
Andrew takes another puff at his pipe and continues:

"So. I found the place and opened the door, just as a chap came out quite rapidly, looking rather flustered and holding what appeared to be an ear in one hand. The other hand was clasped to the side of his head and there was blood trickling between his fingers. He looked at me. I looked at him. I looked at his hair. Shocking. Just shocking. (puff, puff). The chap gives a sort of groan and staggers off in the direction of the Royal Alexandra Hospital. I walked in and sat down to wait.
The shop was hellish gloomy and dirty. There were great tufts of hair all over the floor and some suspicious looking stains on the walls and mirrors (puff, puff).
There was a small hunchbacked figure in the corner it coughed and spat and wandered into the light.
I presumed that this was Blind Freddy (puff, puff).
He was wearing spectacles with lens like the bottoms of jam jars, a blood stained jacket and had some form of palsy, as his hands were shaking.
He invited me over to the barbers chair and I sat down. He coughed all over the back of my head, dropped his scissors twice and then said to me: "What can I do for you today sir?"
I said (puff, puff) "Give me the same haircut you gave Ian Jackson..."

Well. The entire place was in fucking uproar and I thought I was going to shit myself laughing.
Andrew just wandered off still puffing on his pipe and Ian looked as if he had been filleted.

That was the best comeback I have ever heard.

*Real names. Andrew is dead now and Ian was a cunt - so it serves him right.
(claude balls Realises that it was a bad idea to switch to Bold., Tue 29 Nov 2011, 20:00, 6 replies)

WINNAH!

( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Tue 29 Nov 2011, 20:55, closed)

This has to win!
(anvil, Tue 29 Nov 2011, 22:10, closed)

I have to click this
just for the briliiantnessosity of the narration innit.
( His Popiness the Hole Invaded Poland on, Tue 29 Nov 2011, 22:37, closed)

amazing!
I am going to get a shit haircut just so I can get insulted and use this joke now :-)
(roszser, Wed 30 Nov 2011, 13:01, closed)

I've already got a shit haircut
but this makes me want to start smoking a pipe
(brush_em, Wed 30 Nov 2011, 13:35, closed)

Insult
I've got a shit haircut and I smoke a pipe, now I just need someone to insult me.

Click - very well told. (You had me at Heidelberg)
(justin(e), Thu 1 Dec 2011, 11:59, closed)