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Experience is like a comb that life gives you when you are bald.
The Falklands thing was a fight between two bald men over a comb.
By age seven, I used to comb my hair for performances, just pull my hair up into a bun. Granted, it wasn't a very intricate hairstyle. Still, to be that responsible and disciplined at age seven is unusual.
When I was a teenager I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours, bouffanting my hair like Patty Duke and trying to recreate Barbra Streisand's flawless eyeliner, only to comb it all out and wash it all off before stepping out into the world a butchish bisexual teen.
When I talk about rock n' roll, to me, that goes back to the beginning of the 1950s. Blue suede shoes and sideburns, man. Pink and black coloured clothes. Turn your collar up, comb your hair in ducktails. And the music was cool. It was a whole culture then - a different world.
The thing I've always liked about performing is that I decide what I want to wear, whether I want to comb my hair.
But, I understand that Black Comb and Whistler are supposed to be great for snowboarding. So I am looking forward to going there someday soon.
I like to walk around with bare feet and I don't like to comb my hair.
Over the last two years, I have been able to comb through The Prince's archives. I have been free to read his journals, diaries and many thousands of the letters.
The person who doesn't scatter the morning dew will not comb gray hairs.
