On a grey day in Glenrothes - Fife, I was preparing to visit a friend in Glasgow. As a diehard punk I pulled on my most rock and roll attire and headed to the bathroom to get my hair in order. Until I discovered the joys of red Dax Wax I would use standard hair gel and tonnes of hairspray to scrape my hair into nasty spikes a la Sid Vicious. On this day I was dismayed to discover that that my supplies of hair product had run dry so I was forced to improvise. I grabbed a bar of soap and sprinkled it lightly with water to achieve a mild foam, which I massaged into my locks before administering a hair dryer to set the spikes in place. It worked better than I could have imagined and pleased with the result I headed out. By this time I was running late so I jogged towards the nearest bus stop as the ubiquitous Scottish drizzle stung my eyes. I saw the bus approaching over the crest of the hill and my jog turned to a sprint. The rain got heavier and I began to dodge puddles to avoid ruining my leopard print trainers. I made the bus just in time and jumped aboard. The driver looked at me with surprise in his eyes and as I walked down the aisle other passengers looked up with a mixture of fear and confusion. I strode to the back of the bus, satisfied that I must be looking pretty mean. I slouched on the back seat and gazed out of the window as the rain pummeled the glass. A trickle of water ran down my forehead, tickling my chilled skin. I reached up to wipe it away and as I drew my hand away I was shocked to find my fingers covered in a light foam. I panicked and rubbed my hand through my hair only to find more foam. I began to rub my hair ever more frantically in an attempt to remove the suds but the mixture of the Scottish rain and the heavily caked soap only made things worse. My fellow passengers began to glance back at me as I slowly lathered up on the back seat.
Had any passing motorists looked up at the bus, they would have seen a panicked young man in a studded jacket washing his hair.
