what's in a dress ?

Well, I thought about this fancy-dress party quite a lot, actually. I lost several hours sleep over it and decided that I, the Queen of Hearts, should go none other than the late Princess of Wales, Diana. Her personality fits me to a T. Kind, generous, loving and caring, a bit dim - but then, look at her ex-husband who is no trophy either - and a fantastic shagaholic.

Obviously, I shall be dressed in a Versace body-hugging dress, a tiara which, unlike my own (sadly), has real gems in it, and the must-have clutch bag in which you can barely fit in your lipstick for a re-touch - but we women of such high calibre know how to take care of such things.

My hairdresser and make-up artists will be on hand in the Ladie's and just to add a je ne sais-quoi, I shall be wearing heels, probably opened toed and with a strap around the ankle, as I am not quite as tall as the late Princess of Wales.

The music played will be all 80s music and probably dipping further into the 70s. The final song will, of course, be God Save The Queen.

In which I choose Another Fancy Dress outfit

I shall go as Marie Antoinette.

Lots of embellished satin, crystal studded shoes, a towering wig, make-up, an gorgeous young man on my arm and....

What?

Oh. Too Elton John evidently.

I'll have another think.

In which I choose a fancy dress outfit

I have thought long and hard about this.
I shall go as Dorothy Parker!
I shall be wearing a marvellous hat, with a lovely bobbed hair do, carry a fag holder, make witty and interesting comments and drink gin and...
Hang on.
I think I need to have a re-think.

Fine!

Well.

Apparently we're boring.

Little Blogger has never been called boring before.

So sorry Big B, but I'm not consulting with you about this, I'm going ahead and doing it.

Just because I can.

Little Blogger wants all of the blogmates to get as many people as possible - friends, strangers, relatives, fellow blogees - to leave comments on THIS POST, and this post alone, attesting to how great their chosen blogmate is.

Something as simple as "I love Mike, he's great innit." That kind of thing.

Little Blogger will then count up all the comments on Tuesday evening, and whoever has the least comments dedicated to them will be automatically evicted, along with whoever gets the highest number of votes from the public in the main poll. If they are the same person then I'll have a think about which second-placer to evict. In any case, someone is definitely going as a result of this.

Or maybe they won't.

Or maybe they will.

Or any other number of conspiracy theories.

That's it.

So get pimping people!




On your marks... get set.... GO!!!!!

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!