or, Overheard at the Barber Shop:
Patron [looking down at bib]: What the hell?
Barber: {snip snip snip}
Patron: Where did all these white hairs come from?
Barber: {snip snip snip}
Patron: Is that the sun bleaching my hair?
Barber: {snip snip snip}
Patron: I mean, it’s the sun, right? That can’t be my hair turning white.
Barber: You want to know the truth?
Patron: Not when you put it like that.
Barber #2: You’re old, man.
An you’re not, eh, Ian, is that what you’re saying? Well, here’s an old man’s response: [bronx cheer]
You’ll notice I slyly avoided identifying the patron in the above exchange.
I thought it sounded like an exchange between Sean Connery and God.