Herr Cuts is not a German barber. He is, in fact, the local barber (actually, gentlemen’s hairdresser) of Masham, a market town in the Yorkshire Dales. Arthur is nearly 80 and going strong, serving every local man from the local brewery workers to the local Lord. He is, however a trifle deaf, or as he puts it, slightly hard of hearing. He only charges £3 for a haircut, which also includes stimulating conversation and anecdotes. The only thing he asks is that you let him know at the start, “Now then, sir, do you require a silly conversation or a sensible conversation? I can do either. I just need to know the direction.” Conversations with Arthur can sometimes be shouted, eg…
Arthur: “So, sir, where are you living these days?”
Arthur: “Pardon sir?”
Arthur: puzzled look.
Customer: “Burneston, Arthur! Burneston! BURNESTON, BURNESTON! I LIVE IN BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNEEEEEEEEEEEEEESTOOOOOOOOOOOOON!” (this time at 100+ decibels, customer glad that he had done a drill instructor’s course in his Army days).
Arthur: “And what grade haircut would you like, sir?”
Customer: “Two, please.”
Arthur: “I’m sorry?”
Customer (now doing Winston Churchill V for victory sign in the mirror): “TWO, ARTHUR! TWO, TWO, TWO, TWO, TWO!!!!!”
Arthur: “Oh, I see. What’s your son doing these days?”
Customer (vocal cords now working overtime): “Teacher! Teacher!”
Arthur: “Please say that again. I have to reach her?”
Customer: “SCHOOLTEACHER! SCHOOLTEACHER, ARTHUR! HE’S A SCHOOLMASTER!”
Arthur: “Sir, there’s no need to shout. I can hear perfectly well.”
Haircut: £3. Entertainment: priceless.