Free The Barbershop Seven by Douglas Lindsay Page A

suitably compliant naked tart, with nipples like corks, and her lips pouting in a flagrantly pseudo-lesbian pose. I love it, so I do. It's pure brilliant.'
    'Even so,' said the customer, holding up his finger as Wullie produced a comb to administer the finishing touches, 'I still don't think it's a patch on modern art. That's got far more life and soul to it than a bunch of birds with their kit off.'
    Wullie stopped combing, looked at the man as if he was mad.
    'You're joking? I mean, fair enough, if they painted a bit of paper completely orange, then put a red squiggle in the middle of it and called it A Boring Load Of Crap That Took Me Two Minutes And Isn't Worth Spit , then that'd be fine. But they don't. They'll do that, then call it Sunrise Over Manhattan or Three Unconnected Doorways , or I'm A Pretentious Wank So You've Got To Give Us Three Million Quid . Piece of bloody nonsense.'
    'No, no you've got it all wrong. These things have got a depth and soul to them that the likes of you can't see. If you can't see what an artist is saying, then it's because you're not in tune with the guy. That's hardly his fault.'
    Wullie shook his head as he dusted off the back of the neck.
    'Come off it. Any nutter can splash paint onto something and call it Moon Over Five Women With Hysterectomies ,' – Wullie was indeed a new man –  'or something like that. My two year-old niece could do it, and she wouldn't get three million quid.'
    'Of course not,' said the man, as Wullie removed the cape from around his neck and handed him a towel, 'and that's the point. If just anyone does it, it doesn't mean anything. The artist, however, is expressing himself, is letting you see what's inside. It means something because it comes from within, from his soul. That's what gives it heart, and that's why people are willing to pay money for it. Artists bare themselves to the public.'
    Wullie thought about this for a second or two. The man stood, brushed himself down.
    'A fine defence of modern art you've constructed there,' said Wullie eventually.
    'Aye, thanks,' said the customer, fishing in his pockets.
    'However, it's a complete load of pants.'
    The man produced a five pound note from his pocket.
    'You're not listening to me, Wullie.' He paused, stared at the ceiling, tried to think of how he could best get his point across. He was not used to such intellectual debate. Reaching for his jacket, he found what he was looking for. 'Let's put it this way. Say some wee muppet playing at St Andrews hacks out of the rough at the side of the green and it flies into the hole. Now, it may seem like a great shot, but let's face it, he didn't have a clue what he was doing. You know he's lucky. But if Tiger chips from the rough and it flies into the hole, you know he meant it. It's a thing of beauty. It's art. The execution and the outcome are the same, but the intentions are different. That's what it's all about.'
    He stopped on his way to the door, holding out his hands in a gesture of 'there you have it'.
    'Are you saying,' said Wullie, 'that Tiger Woods is the same as one of they bampots who throws paint onto a picture?'
    The man laughed.
    'I'll never win. See you next time, Wullie, eh. See you, Barn.'
    The barbers said their goodbyes, Barney grudgingly, then Wullie turned to start his final clearing up for the day after fixing the Closed sign on the door.
    Still muttering at the discussion which had just finished, Barney completed the minutiae of clearing his things away. Now that Wullie had finished, he felt free to go. Naked Italian women; these people didn't half talk some amount of mince.
    'Can I have a word, Barney?'
    Barney looked up; Wullie walked towards him and sat in the next seat up from his. Barney looked into Wullie's eyes and sat down, suddenly feeling a tingle at the bottom of his spine. It could've been the label on his Marks and Spencer's boxer shorts, but he had the feeling that it was something worse.
    'Wullie?'
    Wullie was staring at