from the Australian Newspaper:

'My hairdresser sucked me in; she told me it had happened only last weekend. Her best friend in the whole world, a legend in the iconoclastic world of straight blow-dries, had been clearing up the salon on her late-night shift.

Caught up in the intricacies of separating hundreds of small pieces of foil in readiness for the next day's bleachings, at first she didn't hear the rapping on the glass door.

When she did, the hapless young man standing outside was puce with angst and she opened the door, something she had been told not to do when she was alone. "Help me," he cried, "I have a huge emergency." He told her that he had just been told he had a job interview in an hour's time and he couldn't possibly succeed in his quest for employment with his hair all over the shop. Would she please, pretty, pretty please, cut it for him.

Against her better judgment she agreed, put the cutting cape on him and crossed to the other side of the room to get the scissors. And then, to her utter horror, she saw what he was up to. Her worst fears were confirmed.

Both his hands were under the cape and there were very definite jerking movements, up and down, up and down. Vigorously.

She did what any normal hairdresser under attack would; she grabbed the nearest hair drier, leapt with great alacrity across the salon and whacked him as hard as she could over the head. He slumped to the floor unconscious and she rang the police.

They came quickly, pulled the groggy sex offender to his feet and his glasses fell to the floor. He'd been polishing them under the cape. '

yechydda,