Charity
The words 'fancy dress' have struck a terror into me since, at the age of four, I was dressed as a pirate, made to attend the party of a child who I could barely stand, and then forced to stand outside my house whilst my mother tried to find out who had the spare key. Three hours in a hooped t-shirt, woman's scarf and biro beard, sitting on a concrete step whilst everyone in a three mile radius is knocked up to come and look at you, is enough to give anyone an aversion to fancy dress. But enough of pre-school.

Several more regrettable costume-based incidents occurred at primary school: wearing green tights and an adult’s green t-shirt to be Peter Pan – this also involved a song and a dance; being Father Christmas in a school play and doing a handstand when I forgot my lines – that one, sadly is on video; wearing long-johns every night for a week in another school play; and balloon pants, waistcoat and a fez playing a genie in yet another. However, I reached my peak, or nadir, at secondary school (when I should perhaps have known better). As I attended an overly-liberal comprehensive, there was no uniform. Consequently, when Comic Relief/Children in Need rolled around a non-uniform day was impossible. We were therefore expected to pay our quids and wear fancy dress. Highlights included:

• Nazi – I was dared (possibly even double-dared with a cherry on top) to come in dressed as Hitler. I’m tall, rotund and ginger, so the verisimilitude was always going to be slight, but that didn’t stop me. Cue pseudo-fatigues, an armband constructed from paper and, the piece de resistance, the trademark ‘tache, a load of dog hair glued to some cardboard and blutacked to my lip). I lost the tache when we discovered at break time I looked more like Goebbels. As a sidenote, I was bollocked for my outfit by the deputy-head of Humanities, which led to me becoming Jewish* - ‘I’m Jewish and I’m not offended, so how can you be?’, a winning argument you’ll agree.

• Suicide Bomber – Partly a dare, partly my own idea, this was basically black clothing with a balaclava and geligmite explosives (jelly in some ice cube bags). I ate the jelly at break time, so when we were photographed in fourth period I looked like a gimp...


• ‘A Gay’ – this wasn’t my idea either (do you get the feeling I’m weak-willed?). Basically a satin shirt and skinny jeans, with makeup. I looked a prat and was scorned by most, but the fact remains that the hottest girls in school were doing my makeup – I spent three hours that day inches from A1 boobs, and I’d do it again damn it!

• Princess Leia – Sadly, this was all my own doing. Bought a dress, borrowed a wig from a friend’s mum, found a replica blaster and, yes, wore make-up. I looked classy, was treated badly and ended up face-down in a paddling pool I was later told someone had pissed in.


I’ve seen, in my long periods of lurking, the phrase ‘pictures or it didn’t happen’. There are pictures of most of these, but luckily they come from the pre-digital age. Nonetheless, here is my shame...




The worrying thing is, I look a lot like my cousin.

* AF632 is not, nor has he at any time, been Jewish, despite many representations to the contrary. This does not constitute a slur on the Jewish people or their affiliates, and should not be construed as such. The filthy, big-nosed bastards.
( af632 now has an alibi for, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 19:59, 2 replies)

Phew she is gorgeous!
So can you introduce me to your cousin in the picture...?
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 22:51, closed)

would
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 7:56, closed)