Hilary's second page

Formatting text

By Hilary Waring

Wind your way down Baker Street in Brighton, and, believe me, nostalgic, syrupy saxophone melodies will be furthest from your mind. This noisy little thoroughfare, off the London Road, is home to a shoddy selection of shops and a cheesy tattoo parlour, and would be as insignificant as it is unglamorous, were it not for being home to one of the hairdressing world's best-kept secrets.

Frozen in time

Having been frozen in time for the last forty years, 'Coopers for Haircuts' no longer exists in the universe as we know it, but instead skulks in those dark shadowy corners normally reserved for nightmares, fevered visions and sketches from the League of Gentlemen.

Lopsided grey toupees

I first stumbled across Cooper's many years ago by chance and remember gazing in the window in awe at the strange and disturbing dolls' heads sporting lopsided grey toupees, and the peeling and faded black and white photos of haircuts that would frighten your granny. A hand-written sign read 'haircuts 100p', and just inside I could make out the silhouette of a man who passed more than a casual resemblance to Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. I was, naturally, intrigued.

Mr Cooper was a great friend to me

Nine years later, the price may have gone up by 20p, but otherwise nothing seems to have changed. Unable to seduce Mr. Cooper into an interview, I met instead with aficionado to the cause and compere of the Comedy Dairy, Dave Mountfield, and asked him how he first became initiated into Mr. Cooper's lair.