The Twits
Автор книги Roald Dahl
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What
a
lot
of
hairy
faced
men
there
are
around.
Nowadays,
when
a
man
grows
hair
all
over
his
face,
it
is
impossible
to
tell
what
he
really
looks
like.
Perhaps
that's
why
he
does
it.
He'd
rather
you
didn't
know.
Then
there's
the
problem
of
washing.
When
the
very
hairy
ones
wash
their
faces,
it
must
be
as
big
a
job
as
when
you
and
I
wash
the
hair
on
our
heads.
So
what
I
want
to
know
is
this
how
often
do
all
these
hairy
faced
men
wash
their
faces?
Is
it
only
once
a
week,
like
us
on
Sunday
nights?
And
do
they
shampoo
it?
Do
they
use
a
hairdryer?
Do
they
rub
hair
tonic
in
to
stop
their
faces
from
going
bald?
Do
they
go
to
a
barber
to
have
their
hairy
faces
cut
and
trimmed?
Or
do
they
do
it
themselves
in
front
of
the
bathroom
mirror
with
nail
sizers?
I
don't
know.
But
next
time
you
see
a
man
with
a
hairy
face,
which
will
probably
be
as
soon
as
you
step
out
onto
the
street,
maybe
you
will
look
at
him
more
closely
and
start
wondering
about
some
of
these
things.
Mr Tweet was one of these very hairy faced men. The whole of his face, except for his forehead, his eaves and his nose, was covered with thick hair. The stuff even sprouted in revolting tufts out of his nostrils and ear holes. Mr Tweet felt that this hairiness made him look terrifically, wise and grand. But in truth, he was neither of these things.
Mr.
Twitt
was
a
twit.
He
was
born
a
twit,
and
now,
at
the
age
of
60,
he
was
a
bigger
Twit
than
ever.
The
hair
on
Mr
Tweet's
face
didn't
grow
smooth
and
matted
as
it
does
on
most
hairy
faced
men.
It
grew
in
spikes
that
stuck
out
straight
like
the
bristles
of
a
nail
brush.
And how often did Mr Twitt wash this bristly nail brushy face of his? The answer is never. Not even on Sundays. He hadn't washed it for years.
