Eyebrows Sir?

I took myself out for a hair cut. It was during the week but I had a couple of days due to me and my mop was getting untidy. It gets untidy at the point when I should consider giving it a comb. Being lazy is hard work and I now got to the stage of not combing my hair if I can help it. The only way to get away with this is to make sure it's cut short.

My hair dresser spoke English OK, in fact he was probably a second generation dude. Though I must state I really could do with finding a good Turkish hairdresser which there is lacking in the area I live in at the moment. They do great things with a burning taper. Anyway, this dude was young, probably mid 20s, at the age where looking good accounts for everything in life. He invited me to take his seat for my scalping. He asked a number of questions over what I'd like and how I wanted it cut. Generally, anything as long as its a short-back-and-sides. Then two minutes into the cut, after spraying some water on my hair to stop it waving about like a Mexican wave on LSD he asked "would you like the eyebrows trimmed sir?" Of course I said yes.

The thing was I'd checked my eyebrows earlier in the morning and thought they were passable. OK they needed a little bit of shaping, but for a hairdresser to ask meant these brows were out of control. I can see myself going off to B & Q to see if they got an weed killer at this rate. While my hair got damp from the sprayed water the dude took out a miniature clipping machine and gave my brows a twice over. I could feel clumps of hair cascade down over my eyes. I really didn't know or realise they had gone wild. I suppose I am now at that stage in life where looks if not hairy eyebrows are not everything. Well at least I don't have a uni brow then I'd be really, really uncool.