Reno has gone! My barber, the shepherd of that forlorn flock of follicles I call hair. The man I trusted to patrol my head looking for errant hairs to clip has gone. I'm in shock.

There's new sign above the door and it's different; it stings of modernity and gell and spiky hair, Jazz's Barbers. In screaming black font on a lurid, acid-drop, orange background. Jazz's....first Boris Johnson, now this....