…while Nando’s done his best to keep the pricier salons of Liverpool ticking over with his demands for highlights and foppish flicks, the rest of his team mates have clearly eschewed such nonsense.
For a large proportion of the current squad it seems “Number one all over” is about all you’ll get out of them in the barber’s chair.
But why are there so many slapheads in the team?
Pepe Reina is such a God-like figure I wouldn’t question him even if he came onto the field wearing a French Regency pomaded wig and sequined ball gown, so he’s off the hook.
Joe Cole and Paul Konchesky are cockneys surrounded by Scousers and Spaniards, so they’ve got to do something to try and fit in, I suppose.
You could say the same for Jonjo Shelvey but his ears don’t do him any favours, so he joins Ryan Babel and David Ngog in the pointy-headed-alien-from-a-cheap-1950s-B-movie category.
Fellow new boy Raul Meireles has only just reached for the razor, so he probably thinks it’s an English ‘thing’ and is also trying to fit in with the ‘crazy English humour’ Dirk keeps telling him about.
Scaring the life out of the opposition has clearly always been uppermost in Martin Skrtel’s mind as it has with Sotirios Kyrgiakos, but he looks like Amy Winehouse on a Sunday morning, so go figure.
And what of the mighty atom, Jay Spearing? Well, he’s just a happy Christmas Elf spreading Christmas cheer. A happy Christmas Elf who’ll be a damn sight happier in the New Year when his ankle injury has cleared up.
So, I make that eight shiny pates. Now with youngsters Nathan Ecclestone and David Amoo on the fringes (ouch, sorry) of the squad, we just need Milan Jovanovic to admit defeat with his few wispy strands and we’d have the holy grail: the Premiership’s first ever bald XI!