I Will Say This Only Once

I am from the resistance, the hairdresser resistance.

This story gives me hope. That there is, indeed, some British grit still lurking in the population.

Officially, of course, no one is supposed to be getting their hair cut. Not professionally, at least. Since lockdown began in England, on 23 March, hairdressers and barbers have been closed. Many in the sector are gearing up for a 4 July reopening, although this has not yet been confirmed by the government. Wales looks likely to be the same day; 11 August has been mooted in Scotland; Northern Ireland is yet to set a date. Social media is full of videos of people attacking their own hair with kitchen scissors, with varying degrees of success.

And yet. Aren’t the barnets you’re seeing on the street suspiciously well-groomed? They could be DIY, sure – but then how did they get the back so neat? On work calls, colleagues appear with inches of growth that disappear by the next virtual meeting. It’s hard to tell over Zoom, but the roots look professionally done. There have been some high-profile examples of reckless hairdressing. In Missouri, a hairstylist endangered more than 90 customers and colleagues by working while having symptoms of coronavirus. Closer to home, a BBC Radio Kent investigation found 19 barbers willing to give haircuts in contravention of physical distancing rules.

It’s all a bit Secret Army, but pleasing nonetheless, that people are breaking these absurd rules and going their own way. More power to their elbow.

When I start asking around, I hear rumours, mutterings, intimations. A tip about a clandestine barber in Bethnal Green, east London, slides into my inbox. “He goes from flat to flat,” my informant tells me. Another sends me a blurry photo of a mobile hairdressing van spotted in a London street. Business cards appear in shops. A Turkish barber has put newspaper over its windows, but “there’s always a steady stream of sharp-looking haircuts outside”, says my spy. On the hookup app Grindr, barbers advertise services with a scissor emoji in their bio. In Peckham Rye, south London, posters offering at-home barbering appear on trees. They are taken down the next day. The game is afoot.

Given that the government was happy to throw them to the wolves, I see no reason for them not to do what they can. The rescue package – that we will all have to pay for later – came several weeks into the lock-down and too late for some.

When I start asking around, I hear rumours, mutterings, intimations. A tip about a clandestine barber in Bethnal Green, east London, slides into my inbox. “He goes from flat to flat,” my informant tells me. Another sends me a blurry photo of a mobile hairdressing van spotted in a London street. Business cards appear in shops. A Turkish barber has put newspaper over its windows, but “there’s always a steady stream of sharp-looking haircuts outside”, says my spy. On the hookup app Grindr, barbers advertise services with a scissor emoji in their bio. In Peckham Rye, south London, posters offering at-home barbering appear on trees. They are taken down the next day. The game is afoot.

Given that journalists are the new Stasi, I’m not surprised.

Overall, this is a good news story that tells us something about our national character that I thought had been lost. I’m almost cheerful.