An Inspired Choice

A costume for a fancy dress party? That one worried me. It seemed my well of inspiration had run dry. And knowing that time was running out, last evening I lay awake, wondering what I could possibly come up with. I decided to go out for a little walk, see if something might occur to me out in the real world.

As I walked through town, something seemed to be wrong. It was midnight, and yet there were shops open. And not just all-night convenience stores, these were shops that would not normally be open at this time of night. Bookshops. And they seemed to have crowds around them, queuing to enter. This was very odd. I wandered over to find out what was going on, overheard some snatches of conversation, the words "publishing sensation of the year". Somebody called Rowing or Rowland or something. A name.

"That's IT!" I thought to myself. I instantly rushed back to the house.

Into the diary room I dashed, determined to get on with things before anyone else came up with the same idea.

"Hello Big Blogger," I said. "Could you provide me with a uniform, you know, one of those burgundy ones with the round hats, like they wear in hotels when they are carrying your cases. Oh, and a sack truck and maybe some suitcases, just to finish off the effect."

"Certainly, Alan" he said. And this morning when I was called into the diary room, there it was, all laid out for me.

Meanwhile I had crept back into the boys bedroom. Jonny and Mike were snoring away merrily. Perfect. I crept over to Mike's footlocker and surreptitiously removed two pairs of his baggiest Y-fronts, a crisp white pair and a lovely navy pair I had spotted a few days earlier.

This morning I approached Miss Mish.

"You seem very knowledgable on all things domestic?" I said.

"Oh absolutely, darling, there is nothing I don't know about domestics."

"So if I needed to cut two items of clothing in half, and then sew the halves of the opposing items together, how would I go about that?"

"Well," she said after some consideration, "first I would pull the little string, and that would cause the bell to ring in the servant's quarters...."

I went to see Zoe instead. She seemed more the Earth-Mother type, and she soon put me right.

So now I stand in front of the mirror. The uniform is on, my face is already suitably hirsute, the two-coloured underwear is pulled on over the top, the sack-truck and cases at my side, I am the perfect representation of this weekend's sensational best-selling novel.

Hairy Porter and the Half Blue Pants!!!!!!

That is right, isn't it?

Oh, and music, something by Wizzard, I suppose!