The gay cowboy and the gorilla with a head full of sick
I've always done my best to avoid fanxy-dress parties like the plague, however... about 10 years ago I was press-ganged into going to a works party that my dad's office had organised. (we worked for the same firm for a few years) Myself and my best mate dutily schlepped off to the fancy dress hire shop, after our girlfriends had shamed us by hastily organising a french maid 's costume and Mrs.Santa Claus outfit for themselves. My mate chose a Gorilla costume and I (being all of six foot five) had a limited cohice of either american footballer's uniform or a cowboy outfit. Sadly for me, I chose the cowboy outfit, which was basically some leather chaps, a hat and a gun, mixed with my own checked shirt, my leather waistcoat, jeans and my cowboy boots. At the time, I also had a very bad mullet (this was when I was in the transition between Rocker and Brit-pop fan)

We arrived at the party where the Gorilla proceeded to drink himself to the brink of death while I ran around shooting at random girls and did my best to start an authentic western bar-room brawl.

Later that evening I found the Gorilla in the gents, swaying gently and telling me he was going to puke. Seconds later he blew chunks spectactularly...inside his face mask. I did what any best mate would do, I laughed my arse off then staggered into a nearby cubicle for a well-earned dump. Whilst sat there, various party revellers were going in and out of the gents and one particularly loud group of blokes came in and started mouthing off at how shit the party was and how the "Fucking lanky gay cowboy was going to get his face stoved in if he fired his gun one more time" followed by "Why the fuck would anybody come as that twat from the village people anyway?"

If I'd known, I'd have turned up as the construction worker.
(The Graduate Adding to the confusion since 1974, Fri 13 Jan 2006, 12:47, Reply)