If you think the world’s a bad place, then it just got a whole lot worse with news this morning that Amazon’s new grocery delivery service is likely to put Ocado out of business. I’m not sure life will be worth living without regular visits from Ivan in Onion with whom I’m secretly in love. But if Amazon Prime can get The Ladies of the Lentils a ripe avocado, a box of Mini Magnums and a bottle of Prosecco in the time it takes them to whip up a little kefir grain salad, then Ivan in Onion should be very afraid.
Other breaking news this morning is that, thanks to Tim Peake, an estimated 1 million kids now want to be spacemen. Add to this the impending army of Ivans in Onions and we’re looking at a potentially sizeable cosmic workforce orbiting the earth. So that’ll be handy then. But this is all speculation. The other thing that’s hit my radar is a reality…..
Eyebrows. Yes – eyebrows. There appears to be an eyebrow revolution going on. Turns out I’m a bit behind the curve (ha ha) but eyebrows are now an absolute “thing.” And an absolutely scary thing at that. We’ve just done a casting with young female actors, all of whom were sporting brows that seem like they’re capable of leaping off the face at any second and starting a world war. It’s the “Angry Birds” look. And it’s all the rage. These new brows from hell have the same effect on me as the “controlling bob.” Controlling bobs always seem to be on the heads of rather quiet yet deeply tyrannical women. Think about it for just one second. Yeah. See? And they scare me.
I had my hair cut recently for first time in a long while. I prefer root canal work to hairdos. For one thing you don’t have to talk to the dentist. Well – you can’t. For another you don’t have to look at yourself. And you tend to be there because something hurts and the few hours of your life that you’re dedicating to the situation will stop it hurting. Anyway, my new hairdresser, Damian, said as he flittered his fingers through my limp locks…. “So describe to me your daily hair routine, then.” Gulp. “Um…… Well…..I get up …and…er… I brush it……sometimes.” There was a sigh and then he said “Thought so.” (The word “so” was an octave higher than the word “thought.”) So he set to work. For ever. Added to this humiliation was the fact that when I got home my old man said “Oh.” “OH? What do you mean, OH?” “It’s nice.” “NICE?” “Yes. Kind of local.” “LOCAL?!” Dear God! I’d spent seventy-four quid and three whole hours looking at myself in the mirror and chatting about package deals to Dubai, only to turn out looking frigging LOCAL!
So I realise that if I can’t even manage my barnet I’m never going to find the time for 21st Century eyebrow maintenance. But I did spend a few minutes googling it. So for those of you who are still in brow denial, here’s the low down. You can wax them, oil them, brush them, pencil them, gel them, pomade them (pomade them?) thread them, tattoo them or you can get rid of them altogether and paint great big fat new ones on with creosote. I mean who the hell has the time? Another discovery is that eyebrow art appears to have gone hand in hand with the trend to have every last wisp and whisker ripped off “down there.” You can probably book in for a “full Brazilian with brow transplant” and kill two birds with one stone. Waste not, want not. If you want to go for gold, Damian might even join in and give you a local controlling bob while you’re at it.
But whatever, it’s clear that a naked nounou and a brow like a sculpted lavatory brush are the depilatory “must haves” of 2016. Not for me. I am in orbit, I tell you. IN ORBIT. And I’m not alone. There’s me, a million kids and Ivan in Onion.