The Emperor’s New Clothes

The Emperors New ClothesThere lived a world he should still be alive now, yet sensation would alike(p) to think that he had gr admit up a little.He fancied himself the It Boy of occidental Super- Mare, he was the guy in the latest fashion, up to date hairdos and always had this calendar months Vanity Fair tucked under superstar arm.The fact that he was almost 38 and still lived in his parents terce bedroomed semi-detached did not seem to deter him.Being a man of dewy-eyed pleasures, and having never had the intuition to actually move into a place of his own and abridge a career, his daily r let byine had not changed much over the past twenty years.No later than 8.30am either morning, his doting and more or less dumptrodden m different would creep into his bedroom, careful not to wake the mountain of a son who lay snoring like a pig in his bed. She would place his plate of sausage balloon sandwiches next to his bedside and then quietly conduce closing the door gently d erriere her.At precisely 8.40am, he would take wholeness last grotesque snore and then show up from his top bunk, and haul his not so svelte figure down the two foot ladder that leant against the side, which screamed in distress every whole step he made in his descent. With oneness foul swoop his grand hairy hand would shovel sausage sandwiches into his gawping mouth, two at a time.He would then make his way to the bathroom, where he spent near two thirds of his life.Who would consider thought that a bathroom barely satisfactory of fitting in a bathtub, wash basin and toilet, could hold the many another(prenominal) different cheap brands of beauty products that he had acquired over the years? ii and half-hours later and he is all ready. The break forth a man looks, the better a man isHe would bellow after flushing the toilet and bursting out of the bathroom with a quiff that no Elvis impersonator could compare to. He had a lengthy beauty regime that was absolutely vital t hat he stuck to. How else was he overtaking to pass off being the most c at a timeited person in the whole of Western Super-Mares history?One gets the issue that some of the hair that once belonged on the crown of his head had quietly crept to join the vast amount of hair that covered the rest of his body. As most middle-aged men do, he himself had acquired a rather adult grow patch.This baldness did bother his small headland. But not full so that he did not take ultimate pride in every other inch of himself.After bathroom time, it was dressing up time. To say that he took an interest in fashion would be a laughable understatement. His desperately small bedroom was not somewhere one could kick can and relax, purely due to the lack of space.He did have a lot of clothes, even the odd sarong and kilt. If someone famous had once worn it, or been seen in it, he would have it, or so he liked to make out.Expense simply does not proposition when you are not paying for anybody but y our conceited self. Rumour closely(predicate) the town was that he surely must have had Superior Being tattooed behind his ear, like the 666 in the Omen, but this guy was real.Once kitted out in an outfit that was about as un-flattering as he could possibly pick together,Its next season darling, anybody can see that he would sneer to anybody who dared to root on at him.After blowing air kisses to his mother and father, he would head off to the seafront.When on the bus, he would lay out a designer wind on which to perch his bottom on, and cross his legs curtly. One may work out that seeing a middle aged bald man with the ghastliest invent tan and atrocious dress sense and perspiration problem, would be a humorous thing, but the locals were end uply used to him, and paid him no attention whatsoever.In the city he would flounce around seemingly aimless, peering in at the most dear(predicate) shops and throwing lesser beings nasty looks.Then, he would go to his favourite caf, a low key seaside affair, that his Great auntyie happened to own. Here, he could get free coffee and cream cakes. This was a privilege he had been abusing ungratefully for as long as his great aunt could remember.He was definately not one to say no to something free (as his ill-starred relative had realised). This was his critical downfall.It was a day like any other in the caf, when he was approached by a young woman complete with fake breasts, a fake smile, and an incredible amount of orange make-up on, a saleswoman.He glanced her up and down, his eyes did not stumble upon an expensive lable, therefore he returned to his article without bothering to utter a word.Sir, sorry to mislay you, as you look like a very busy manAt which point, his Aunt spluttered in the background.She continued,My company are the newest in follicle technology, we hold in complicated science procedures, to bring men like yourself back smiling, with a full head of hair Which was then her queue to thro w him a dazzling smile with gleaming eyes. Luckily, she had his attention.Menlike myself? He growled ferociously, atomizer her with saliva.The womans smile did not crack.I think it may interest you to cut that we have a full waiting list of celebrities desperate to get their hands on this amazing product, I chose you, because you look like a person who knows what they want. And we are prepared to give you the full course, absolutely one hundred percent free There was a pause.Inside his head, cogs were number slowly. Celebrities. Desperate. FreeHe took a deep breath in, stood up proudly, his scent in the air and slammed his great hairy fist down on the table smashing four empty mugs and declared,Ill do itQuick as a flash, his details were down on paper and he involve on with his coffee, smug, with the prospect of a full head of hair.A month or so later, at 8.30am a parcel arrived next to his sausage sandwiches. At first sighting, the grown man inside of him let out a high pitche d squeak of excitement.He dropped to his knees like an yearning child, tearing away the packaging in glee.Minutes later, sat amdist a sea of bubble wrap, he cradling his new elixir.Follicle SOS hair rejuvenator with added vitaminsHe gasped in awe at this magical product and once again snarl smugly aware that he had been hand picked to use it.After canvass the instructions, here began the treatment. This is not the kind of treatment he had in mind though. One must bear in mind, that his peers were not very kindly of him.Every day he applied the magical cream, and every night, he chequered his bald spot for improvement. No such luck. In fact, he wasnt alone sure, but it looked like his hair was getting sparser.After three weeks of applying the cream, he was not a happy customer. He had even stopped going out to the seafront for his regular coffee and cream cakes. For not only had his bald spot stayed bald, but to his horror it had increased in size.He rang the helpline. seance there in his mothers favourite chair, on hold, for most of an hour. Until the same lady who he had spoken to before answered.A whole string of crimson abuse later, the woman replied,The treatment has to get rid of the original hair, in order to work on the head as a whole, and give away shiny healthy looking locks. Because you sir, are worth it She purred.Nothing like a cheap compliment to dampen his rage.So, religiously, he carried on applying it.Until the last(a) day came, when he awoke one morning completely, outrageously bald, not to have-to doe with shiny. Alongside his sausage sandwich was a small letter.He undecided it happily,Popular as ever he thought.Inside the letter, was a follow compose by hand. It readHave you never read the story about the Emperor and his new clothes?Oh, he and his bald head of Western Super-MareVanity is a highly un-attractive quality.Consider the lesson taughtOn the back of the note, were the signatures of every person in his neighbourhood.H ands shaking, he laid down the note gently. Promptly strolled downstairs, leaving his sausage sandwiches behind, picked up the yellow pages and looked up, designer toupees.