This is a special addition dedicated to the guys at ‘The Groom Room Torquay’. We’ll be taking a look at a clever cunt by the name of Ambroise Paré, who back in the day was in the profession known as Barber-Surgeon. Yeah that’s right those bastards would trim your fringe and your foreskin in one sitting.
You’ve probably all heard the reason for the red and white barber pole representing the blood involved in surgery. Well it was fairly common for barbers to pull teeth, amputate limbs, etc. fucking etc… Ambroise was no exception he was balls deep in the surgery game and even made some pretty cold-hearted advances. When treating a bunch of soldiers for gunshot wounds it was fairly standard to pour boiling oil on the wounds to cauterize the wounds. Ambroise was splashing that shit around, obviously like he was applying aftershave and ran the fuck out. So then he’s all like “Oh fuck, I’m out of boiling oil to pour on these wounded people” and decides to not be an asshole and makes some concoction of rose water and egg whites. In the morning, all the guys he deep-fried were fucking dead (surprisingly) but the others were healing up. So he realised it wasn’t fucking cool throwing hot oil on people, like Einstein getting a handjob a stroke of genius.
He didn’t stop there! Between shaving the Nike tick into the sides of peasant’s heads, he had time to investigate a nifty little form of medicine that he had suspicions about. The medicine in question was Bezoar stones, these were essentially a rock that you swallow and it was meant to cure any poison. Ambroise called bullshit on this and was all like “fuck you guys, they don’t work”. So they got a cook that was caught stealing silverware from Ambroise’s house and said you can either get hung (survival rate = fuck all) or you can get poisoned and have an Bezoar stone (survival rate = who the fuck knows) and if you survive you’re free. So the cook chug-a-lugged the poison and gobbled down a rock. Needless to say the cook then spent several hours dying a horrible slow death. You can imagine the smug look on Paré’s face as the cook rolled around dying, what an asshole.
Believe it or not, I can’t find shit about how he cut hair but I imagine he was all right…
Leonardo Gavinci 