The Hair: A Horror Story

Back when I wrote this post (which was about that time I flashed everyone at the local garage, thanks to a strong gust of wind and a big-skirted dress, just in case you can’t be bothered clicking the link), some of you were kind enough to say how much you liked the photos which accompanied it. And honestly, I felt a bit bad about that, because the fact is, that’s not what I actually look like most of the time.

HERE’S what I ACTUALLY look like most of the time:

Funnily enough, this is also going to be the poster for my very own horror movie, The Hair. Tagline: When hair is cut violently, a powerful curse is released…


The curse cannot be broken:

(I’m also waltzing with a ghost in this photo. If you can see the ghost, I’m afraid you’re cursed, and your hair will kill you in your sleep tonight. If you can’t see the ghost, meanwhile? Also cursed. Sorry.)

The curse can strike at any time, and ruin any photo:

As you can see, in this photo Rubin’s special canine senses had alerted him to the approach of THE HAIR. He tried bravely to fight it (or perhaps he’s actually just struggling to get away from it, who knows?) but alas, it was too late, and that nice photo Terry had set up, with my disembodied head floating above some flowers, was ruined by the curse of THE HAIR.

Sometimes The Hair will find new and unusual ways to attack. There you will be, just walking along minding your own buisiness, when:


Think you can escape it?


Note the expression on my mum’s face here. She sees The Hair. She knows I’m doomed. She’s just wondering how to tell me. Or whether to run.

(No, I have no idea what was going on in this photo. Other than that  my hair was trying to kill me, obviously.)

You should also fear the close cousin of the Hair Moustache, the HAIR BEARD:

It’s a little more subtle, but just as deadly.

So, readers, while it’s not my intention to make you all have nightmares (I think I did that already when I posted the link to THAT OLD WOMAN from¬†Insidious) I hope I’ve shown you today that you can run, but you cannot hide from…


Move over, Samara. There’s a new creepy girl in town.

(Coming soon to a blog near you.)

(Er, if you could maybe imagine the Psycho music or something playing here, thanks.)