King of kings
I've always been a sod for wilful misunderstanding. When one of my primary school teachers told me to look at her while talking to her, I went behind her and looked at her back. So, when I got the role of one of the three kings in the church nativity play, an idea formed...

My mother asked me what costume I needed, and I told her not to worry, as we had just the thing in our dressing up box (which, barring a few items, was mostly my mother's old clothes). And so, with her characteristic disinterest, she didn't question me any further.

As was typical, all bar the final rehearsal were in our normal clothes, during Sunday School. Incidentally, I don't recall learning anything at Sunday school, just some song about being a bear and thanking the lord for it. Is this the same for anyone else?

Dress rehearsal came. It was a week before the performance, and I gleefully ran off to change into my King costume. Suffice to say, this was one of the few costumes from the dressing up box which was genuinely fancy dress.

A gorilla suit.

Yes, the King I had chosen to be was King Kong.

Cue instant demotion to a silent shepherd, where the costume was a fucking teatowel on my head, while some goody two-shoes kid who probably still believes in god today had to learn the two or three lines of a King.

I think the following year I was demoted further, to being a sheep. I've no idea why though.
(Neddy Nedson is nice really, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 5:01, Reply)