Life in Sunshine Coast: If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you

Those are the wise words by Oscar Wilde.

For my haircut, without fail, I will stroll to Joe's in Ashfield.

"Buonjourno, Oggi Volere tagliare, mi capelli" my usual greetings "Murio Ur Chuchu"

"BUONJORNO!" Joe sparkled "Come sta?"

"Bene. Bene. Molto gracie, e lei?" and I was seated.

Joe is a hardcore passionate football fan. Swore by the book of ultimate champions, he is dead absofuckinglutely sure that Milan is the best team in the universe. He is the Mao Tze Dong of Azurris-are-the-best. And the Azzuris are football Gods, descend from heaven to smite infadels who dare to challenge for any championship - in Joe's ever humble opinion.

"So Joe. What do you think Milan this year?" I smiled

"Keanu. I don't think..." he gesticulated "I know! Yuh Kerazy? Milan will roll over everyone and win every cup, AGAIN!" and more gesticulation, this time with the shaver "Hestory is US!"

And he went on. A rerun of the same doco he had told me before. I am not a mad fan of Italian club or national team. In fact I hate Azzuris. Any team except Azzuris. But Joe does not know that. And I am not in a hurry to let him know the 'whole' truth. But he is willing to do so

He knows that I barrack for England and/or Socceroos. He knows I think Rooney will dribble past Mettarazi like a matador slapping the bull & make it his bitch. But I have never engaged or try to engage into a debate nor try to stimulate one albeit my distaste to Italian football. I saw no real gain in trying to convince him otherwise. But I sensed his belief. I felt his passion - every bellow of joy if it is Italian football team and every grizzle of deprecation if it is any other team. It is his belief and provide no real harm to me. Pretty sure he would have kept to himself and never have share with someone who love golf. And it is my choice to either accept it or not to accept it.

Recently I hosted a dinner for a bunch of friends. Somehow a very sensitive topic rose from nowhere and I had a half chance to express my view. Yes, I became semi-Joe. Unlike the atmosphere in the hair saloon, one of my guests got really offended with my ultra left wing view. And it spilled over, became very personal. A beautiful atmosphere with an instant, wilted, and we all help the flower to die.

My only remorse for that night is that I was confident that I was surrounded with a bunch of friends. That I would only be Joe when I am sure they will remain my customers, as I wear my Azzuri jersey and shave their head whilst chanting Italian hooliganism and cuss at Zidane's sister. That these bunch of customers, although they would frowned like a horse arse, accept who I am - their barber, a fanatic Italian football fan. That I would only be confidently truthful because they are my friends. Not acquaintances. That they would see it is not the case where Joe says it's 'black' so you fuckers must accept 'black' or vice versa. I guess I was wrong. Which makes me wonder - Are we suppose to be Joe regardless who we are with? How Joe can we be with friends? Is there a Joe-limit with new friends? A quick epiphany popped in, if they don't like the current Joe, what are the chances for them to accept the full Joe in the near future?

Debate or argue all you like - steer away from making personal remarks when you a step closer to concede defeat. You will walk tall as you done nothing wrong but being a truthful & honest Joe - the fanatic Italian barber.

For meantime, I got my haircut safely and I know Joe will be happy to see me again. The feeling is more than mutual.

Murio Ur Chu Chu. A dopo, amico. Ming kial.