I Had To Break Up With My Woke Hairdresser

What it's really like to be a political content creator

I've changed hairdressers three times in the past three months.

Now, I'm aware, having spoken to my follicly-challenged friend Liam Tuffs just before writing this, that having to go to a hairdresser at all is a luxury that many men my age no longer have.

This is not a complaint or lament. It's merely a piece that looks with curiosity at the lives of those in the public eye who have taken a stance on the culture wars.

It's a strange thing to be known 'online'. It's not the same as being TV or movie famous. For example, I know someone in the UK who has 16 million YouTube subscribers, but it appears that almost nobody has ever heard of them.

Thankfully, an impenetrable silo forms around our channels. That said, with my (relatively) miserly 525k subscribers (and burgeoning Spotify and Apple followings), I often get approached on the street.

In fact, on the way to the hairdresser's today, I walked ten minutes from my parking space and was shouted at (nicely) twice. The first called out from across the street: "Andrew!".

It was such a friendly voice that I expected to turn and see an old friend, but I was also aware that I don't have any friends in the city I live in —a sad fact in itself, apart from Shaun Attwood. And that wasn't Shaun's voice.

When I turned, the man smiled and said, "Loving the show, Andrew". I shouted back, "Thank you so much!". The second man was walking towards me and caught my attention, before shaking my hand and saying, "Love the channel, mate".

The beauty of these public interactions for YouTubers - as opposed to what it must be like for properly famous people - is that those who know of you tend to like you. Those who would find my politics abhorrent have never heard of me - because of that audience silo.

This is what people see when they look me up

A few weeks ago, for example (I've told this story recently), a woman stopped me on a walking path. It was apparently the second time we had met. She asked for a hug - it was one of the tightest hugs I've experienced.

She looked at me and said, "I don't think you're Hitler". This was about something I said recently on a podcast: that I fear that some people think I'm Hitler because of my stances on trans, Islam, DEI and immigration.

You'll agree that the awkwardness of public interactions is hard enough as it is. Even something as common as accidentally mirroring another person as you try to get by can be embarrassing.

I'm now getting used to bumping into people whom I don't know but who know me. But I do experience a second-hand embarrassment through the other person, who inevitably says the wrong thing because they weren't expecting me to be on their path.

My BBC Faux-Pas

That reminds me of when I was starting out and had a meeting at the BBC, when I saw film critic Mark Kermode getting his lunch in the canteen. Reflexively, I found myself shouting - as if to myself - across the canteen "Oh, it's Mark Kermode". He looked up, perhaps a little embarrassed himself.

I turned purple. "Sorry," I said. I'd broken the unwritten rule of not recognising celebrities in TV buildings!

BBC Film Critic Mark Kermode

Often, people who call out to me forget my name: "It's you! I know you! From that show!" I've bumped into these people a second time, and they've told me how embarrassed they felt afterwards. But it's normal. There are too many of us content creators.

I don't mind at all if people don't remember my name. I'm just happy they don't think I'm Hitler (although that particular hug was awkward because I was on the way to pick up my wife, who spotted me hugging a mystery woman on the path).

But what do we do about hairdressers?

Unlike my other interactions, hairdressers aren't fans.

But they are people with whom you are forced to have long conversations. To different extents, this is true of teachers, taxi drivers and therapists. Even my cleaner - yes, I have a cleaner once a week, sue me! - gets an insight into my life in a way that sometimes makes me wish I didn't do the job I do. I have moved my three (yes, three) YouTube plaques for 100k subscribers so as not to raise suspicion.

Even my butler - just joking.

The other thing about hairdressers is that they tend to lean towards wokeness. They spend day after day talking about everything with their customers, so it makes sense that they would naturally learn to steer clear of holding cancellable opinions. This is not always the case. But I do like to find these hipster places for a cut.

My time with a hairdresser is also a novel opportunity for me to see how the other side thinks. They don't represent the majority, who are aligned with me. But even so, theirs is a significant minority comprising many millions of people in the UK.

"You don't really think we have an immigration problem, do you?" enquired the second of my last three hairdressers, her scissors dangling dangerously close to my windpipe. She had done some digging on me since my last cut. By the time she'd finished the question, I already knew I'd have to change again.

"Um," I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The eyes of the entire room were on me.

I decided to be diplomatic and agree with everything they said. But - I couldn't do it. I went on a mild-mannered but firm rant - in the hope of convincing them - about some of the issues we face from importing large swathes of people from cultures who hate women, gays, Jews and democracy.

"Huh," she replied, before aggressively snipping for an otherwise silent half hour.

To be fair, she is a nice person who, like most people, is probably worried about saying the wrong thing.

This is not true for the first hairdresser, who aggressively made clear her stance on…

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