Blondes: still a mystery

PAV’s PATCH:

YOUR hair colour is supposed to say a lot about your character.

Blondes, for example, are supposed to be dizzy while redheads have a reputation for being fiery. I can certainly attest to the latter.

The former Mrs P had red hair and could explode into the most spectacular, raging furies, although I’m sure she would counter by saying that I drove her to breaking point.

For some reason, most of my ex-girlfriends have been redheads and one, ostensibly a very quiet, timid little thing, turned out to be right bunny-boiler.

In fact, though it’s nearly 20 years since I knew her, I think I’ll pop by my son’s home tonight and put a padlock on the rabbit hutch.

When it comes to blondes, I haven’t been out with enough to form an opinion.

On the other hand, I have worked with quite a few, and none of them has, shall we say, qualified as Mensa membership material.

I used to know one blonde — she styled herself a fashion journalist — who thought Llandudno was in Holland. And then there’s another one I’m acquainted with, called Veronica.

Veronica is an interesting specimen. Somehow she manages to wear stiletto heels which are longer than her skirts.

Dizzy? Well, she’d never heard of tater pie. I discussed the matter with her at some length and she was totally unable to understand the concept of one. She assumed a tater pie comprised a whole potato wrapped in pastry.

How can anyone come from Greater Manchester, sorry Lancashire, and not know what a tater pie is?

But I have to admit that I did once ask Veronica to accompany me to a 50th birthday party so that I might garner a little street cred from my middle-aged footballing friends. She laughed at me.

Of course, hair colour doesn’t only affect the female of the species. Opposite Veronica sits a bloke called Syd — a blond — who gains a worrying amount of pleasure from zapping plants with gallons of bug-killer, and from filling in forms of all kinds.

Whenever Veronica regales us with one of her pearls of wisdom, he gurgles and giggles like an anorexic Teletubby.

But, I can provide details of a blonde who bucks the trend — a platinum blonde with the smile and baking abilities of an angel. As I nibbled her cupcakes I was totally overcome. Pretty and able to cook — I simply had to marry her.

So I fell on one knee and proposed on the spot... and she laughed at me.