Of many ...
My mother had buggered off to Amsterdam and had left with many worried looks and general "Please don't have a party while I'm away. I'm trusting you this time" etc... I had already arranged the party the week I found out she was going. I mean, she gets to go to the Dam and I don't? Pfft. So theres DJs and lots of people coming. I've heard little bits here and there about gatecrashing but think nothing of it as it's fairly expected.
On the night: Doorbell rings, so I go to the door and find no less than 30 chavs and assorted Raggas. I know some of them and plead with them not to come in. To no avail. Fuck it, I think, there really was nothing I could do.
Roster of damage:
One broken door from my having to kick it down because flower-pot bombs were going off the side of my balcony and into the street, once the door is down I find 10 chavs beating off to my stepfathers 70s B-porn.
My stereo goes out the window also.
the Pizza the DJs had ordered finally comes and the pizza man is greeted by howling boys who grab all his pizza, steal his bike and beat the crap out of him. Later a friend on her way to the party reports seeing a 15/16 year old dressed up in Dominoes Pizza outfit, covered in blood and crying.
someone drinks all my mums' white wine vinegar and throws up all over the hall.
Someone pissed all ver my bed, thankfully I passed out in the living room (woke up unscathed thank fuck). Others not so lucky.
I managed to clean everything up before my mum got home. Mother never knew a thing. Friends can be very helpful when you tell them you've just found a huge bag of coke under a mountain of beer cans... "I bet theres more... Help me look".

A week later my mother knocked on my bedroom door, walked in holding a sock filled with snooker balls (much harder than a koch.. you dig?). "Hmm... Do you know anything about this? I just found it under my bed."
"Um...."
(hung_low, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 15:18, Reply)