Faisal was a barber

He worked at Turkish Joe's

He'd snip off your unwanted hair

From places where it growed

He was the Yorkshire Champion

He specialised in “Nose”.

 

He beat the best in Barnsley

And Gary Grant from Goole

And Scissors Spike from Heckmondwike

Whose towels were judged too cool

Then Razor Ron from Rotherham

Reputed to be cruel.

 

His prize was no gold medal

Presented on that day

Nor a wreath of laurel leaves

That on his pate would lay;

But coveted far more than these -

The Todmorden toupee.

 

That victory was sweet upon

Our hero Faisal's lips

“I'll thraipse the bloody lot of 'em!”

The Turkish Tyke now quips

And headed off for Bolton

For the National Championships.

 

Where he would meet his rival

Who'd won Le Grand Nez d'Or

Old Ned the Neb from Bury

Which stuck in Faisal's craw;

Ned was bookies' favourite

While Faisal's 6/4.

 

So Faisal sought an edge that day

To help upset the odds

He prayed to Shiv the Shaver

The Barber to the Gods,

Who, in return for Faisal's soul

Lends his nasal rods.

 

Rods that cleared the passages

Of countless Gods before

Jehovah, Allah, Buddha, Zeus

He'd rid them of their snore;

Their nostrils bald as babies' bums

Protruding hair no more.

 

Ned the Neb was first to play

And stirred his sticky sauce

He lathered up his cotton buds

Then rammed them in with force

“I'm glad it's free” his client said -

He'd nostrils like a horse.

 

Ned waited the 5 minutes

The curing process needs

Then pulled his cotton buds right out

The customer's snoz bleeds

Ned shows his hairy harvest

Like dandelion seeds.

 

The crowd applauds in uproar but

The judges make them wait;

As silence settles all around

A judge chalks on the slate -

A new world record for the Lank!

They score him 9.8.

 

But Faisal's not downhearted

He knows he has his edge

“Top that yer Yorkshire bleeder!”

Shouts Ned's coach Cutthroat Reg;

But Faisal simply eyes his task -

Two nose 'oles sprouting hedge.

 

He smiles in his self-confidence

And stirs his cotton buds

The nasal rods of Shaver Shiv

Divine and holy goods

The wodge of unguent on each

The size of maincrop spuds.

 

But Faisal's overplayed his hand

As cheats quite often do

For Faisal's soon to find himself

In something of a stew;

He's desecrated Shiv's two rods

And used Gorilla Glue.

 

The bloody things he cannot budge

Cemented in their flue

He kneels upon his client's chest

The crowd begins to boo

But finally with one huge yank

He pulls his cock clean through.