Hair Apparently.....

'Ello darlin', welcome to me 'orsedresser's. Come to get your terrible roots done, 'ave ya?'

'No I bloody haven't! Though I must say, your mane is a beautiful colour.'

'I'm a natural blonde, renowned for it, ain't I. Actually, don't tell nobody, sweet'eart, but I'm Hair to The Frone, innit!'

'Heir to what throne?'

'Not 'heir', wiv a silent 'h'; 'hair', wiv a hhhhhh! Hair!'

'You've lost me.'

'If only. Listen, it's top secret, innit, but me luscious locks get woven into syrups for King Trump 'imself!'

'Syrups?'

'Syrup of figs - wigs! Jeez, you're as stupid as wot they say. Wot 'appens is, that this magnificent mane of mine gets made into 'air for the man in the bright orange mask.'

'Umm, that's no mask. But 'King' Trump....he's not a king. He has no throne!'

'Course he does. He's on it once an hour for a pony an' trap.'

'Pony and tr....? Oh, more rhyming slang, is it? Look, I'm only an almost doctor, but 24 times a day seems quite extreme to me.'

'Listen love, if you was as full of shi....'

'Yes, thank you, I get the idea. So does all your mane go to him?'

'Nooooo. I'm also Hair to a Banker in Downin' Street, ain't I.'

'Banker? What banker? Ah, don't tell me - rhyming slang again......'