I spent at least half an hour this evening imagining how I’d look with an undercut, a dip dye, additional tattoos and a dermal neck piercing, before realising that I’ve got a 9-5 these days (I say these days like it’s a surprise – clearly I’m still in a state of shock) and any attempt to look like an individual might jeopardise my runt of a career. Note to self: flights of fancy no longer practical.
Urgh, fuck.
Welcome.