Good day my fine friends I hope today’s picture and utterly barmy blog do bring about a mirth however mild. 

On chancing upon this spirit of individuality in pursuit of mygoodself, I, upon initial backward glance, thought twas the Laydee from the counter of cosmetic compounds at the Departmental store of knick-knackery from where I had purchased a gift of partum de marinade for my dear old Mom. I was instananeously thrown into a quandary and harboured the notion  I had in a state of absent mind, as is often a blight of entertainment types, overlooked payment and potentially effected a perpetration of purloined type but then scoffed at this notion, why it had to be the Laydee was no doubt infatuated with my exceptionally handsome luminary status and had discerningly chosen my good self as the prey of her over fanatical person, whatever! either were bound to bring about some tatloid inches which to a mere celebrity might be a blessing but to my Starry status was a botheration. 

Well upon a more than cursory cast of my optical organ I realised my blunder, offered my humbled apologies to this fellow maverick and was immediately enraptured and catapulted back to a bygone era of a maverick cult for truly emancipated angst riddled youths who no longer harboured feelings of inadequacy, why even red-heads faired well as a consequence.  Yes the days when humdrum went out the window and the moment was so terribly immense as Ziggy coquetted his slender questionable-gender and extra terrestrial visage onto our fat screen TV’s, why tis enough to make a glass eye cry from the mere memory.  I declare when I’m primesident a Ziggy-sque tress will be the insignia that will adorn the flag of my democratic state as an inspiration of individualism.   

It is such a well renowned fact that tis a wonder tis not set in stone, that normally yours truly suffers from uncontrollable urges to tame tresses of hair type and as such is unable to resist an entanglement with a coif of any kind but I could not deem myself worthy of tampering with such a magnificent Bowie-esque headpiece.

I boldly claim I have a significant lack of expertise of matters of costumery pieces but I know a mighty fine display of frippery when I see it and this my proud pal here was a merry old melange of maverick finery and individuality and so I proffered come, join with me my friend in a feisty rendition of that anthem of said-and utmost-individuality come on, join me now.   Rebel rebel.... Got your mother in whirl not sure....

Though my barren, albeit still exceptionally handsome, head has not ceased its wonders in woo to perform I felt overwhelmingly compelled to sport a toupee of such splendiferry and was impatient to order me one without delay therefore yours, master of mavericks of unfettered spirit, truly mimed my way homeward bound in a retro blur via the albums of Aladdin Sane, Rise and fall of his holiness Ziggy and was part way through Pinups when I was enforced to halt in order to order my coveted coif in time for a weekend fest of woo type.

Well I ordered me a flaming red wig and accompanying neck ear combo to compliment the look but transpires I had misdialled, contacted the local purveyor of, on the hoof, hasty edibles burger type emporium and suffice to say all was lost in translation and I became the disgruntled recipient of a patty of a once flaming, clearly dead, pig and an accompanying Becks beer and and complimentary duck dish combo.