Fancy Dress
Two words that fill me with dread. Fancy Dress. Some people really get off on this - last party I went to that involved dressing up, one bloke came in a sort of fetish-nazi outfit, all tight black pvc, whips and jackboots.* Which would have been OK but it was a Eurovision party, and he'd come as Austria.
What's the worst costume you've encountered? Or worn? Or been made to wear...
*and no, it wasn't one of them royals
( , Thu 12 Jan 2006, 20:15)
Two words that fill me with dread. Fancy Dress. Some people really get off on this - last party I went to that involved dressing up, one bloke came in a sort of fetish-nazi outfit, all tight black pvc, whips and jackboots.* Which would have been OK but it was a Eurovision party, and he'd come as Austria.
What's the worst costume you've encountered? Or worn? Or been made to wear...
*and no, it wasn't one of them royals
( , Thu 12 Jan 2006, 20:15)
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Oh yes my little droogs
A few years back, my esteemed employers saw fit to have an enormous fancy dress party to celebrate some good financial results.
Naturally, this led to us being treated to the sight of company directors bigging themselves up for being so fucking bohemian. Why, one of them even dressed as Charlie Chaplin. But I digress...
I had decided to go as Alex off of "A Clockwork Orange". So I acquired the full costume; bowler hat, white dress shirt, white trousers, white codpiece, outlanding cufflinks, false eyelashes, and (and this is important)a big, heavy stick.
The problem arose due to a combination of circumstances; a free bar all night, combined with me being a loathsome thesp type who instantly gets into a role when he's dressing up and pretending, combined with the presence of perhaps the biggest fucktoad in the western hemisphere...well, there were always going to issues, weren't there?
So it was that I found myself being forcibly restrained by my manager after I had, apparently, ran onto the dancefloor wielding a big stick (okay...cudgel) screaming "Where is he? Where's that fucking cunt? I'll KILL THE FAT FUCK!". I spent the rest of the party being talked down from Clockwork world by some forgiving friends who were quite aware of what an idiot I am.
I suspect it was only the managers' dislike of the chap that saved me from a P45.
( , Mon 16 Jan 2006, 12:41, Reply)
A few years back, my esteemed employers saw fit to have an enormous fancy dress party to celebrate some good financial results.
Naturally, this led to us being treated to the sight of company directors bigging themselves up for being so fucking bohemian. Why, one of them even dressed as Charlie Chaplin. But I digress...
I had decided to go as Alex off of "A Clockwork Orange". So I acquired the full costume; bowler hat, white dress shirt, white trousers, white codpiece, outlanding cufflinks, false eyelashes, and (and this is important)a big, heavy stick.
The problem arose due to a combination of circumstances; a free bar all night, combined with me being a loathsome thesp type who instantly gets into a role when he's dressing up and pretending, combined with the presence of perhaps the biggest fucktoad in the western hemisphere...well, there were always going to issues, weren't there?
So it was that I found myself being forcibly restrained by my manager after I had, apparently, ran onto the dancefloor wielding a big stick (okay...cudgel) screaming "Where is he? Where's that fucking cunt? I'll KILL THE FAT FUCK!". I spent the rest of the party being talked down from Clockwork world by some forgiving friends who were quite aware of what an idiot I am.
I suspect it was only the managers' dislike of the chap that saved me from a P45.
( , Mon 16 Jan 2006, 12:41, Reply)
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