Two women, queueing for the toilet on the BA flight, were travelling together and discussing wigs, the shorter haired woman saying that she used to wear one occasionally.

“I do remember years ago, we’d been to a party and drunk a bit too much,” she started. “And we decided to drive home. I drove because he was more drunk than me. But I had to have all the windows down to try to get me sober. Anyway, all of a sudden I’ve careered into the central reservation, and the car has rolled.”

The other woman raised her hand to cover her open, shocked mouth. The short-haired woman was stifling a giggle but managed to carry on.

“So, I must have been knocked out for a minute. He’s out cold. But you’ll never guess what’s happened.”

The other woman, who looked somewhere between horrified at the story and confused at her friend’s apparent mirth, shook her head.

“Only my wig. Shot right off my head, through the window and is on the other side of the carriageway.” She broke down into fits of laughter. “I mean, can you believe it.”

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