Scottie organized a comedy themed film night last night. Or at least, that's how it started. When I arrived, Stephen and Angus were there watching the Marx Brothers doing their best to offend the population of Italy. Bewildered, but very amused, I took a seat and enjoined the proceedings. By popular vote, this was followed by Who Framed Roger Rabbit, which of course, everyone enjoyed.
Now, here's where events became somewhat surreal. Scottie's friend's from work arrived. Three ladies and three laddies. With the bevvy. And the music. Er... Whisky Tango Foxtrot, over? What transpired next seemed somewhat akin to a cross between some good old fashioned high seas piracy and an episode of "Pimp My Party."
Angus and I continued to watch WFRR, increasingly alarmed by the calamity ensuing in the kitchen. (Lots of clinking of glass, slamming of oven doors, clattering of pots, etc.) The girls emerged from the kitchen carrying several saucepans full of punch, and proceeded to get a game of spin the bottle going.
The film night ended at around this point.
No sir, I don't mind a good party, as my flatmates will attest, but if you're going to bring a case of music with you, at least cater for more than one genre of music. At the very least, make that genre something other than R&B. Please. There aren't many genres of music I can say I categorically despise, but R&B is one of them. No, seriously. It's vomit inducing. No amount of gyrating booty will change that fact.
Sadly, Angus made his excuses and left. And then there were three. Stephen and I resigned ourselves to inevitability and joined in. "Truth, Dare or Drink." The latter seemed rather redundant, as everyone was drinking anyway. The dares seemed to consist unanimously of "snog foo." Which left truth. Stephen and I both got asked the obvious question, though Stephen had obviously put a lot more rehearsal into his answer.
Well, some drum 'n' bass did eventually make it onto the CD player, so I did get a little dancing in. But they changed the track before the end of the song.
Oh, and we got a gatecrasher too. A rather drunk chap in a Hibs shirt who shared the same glasses prescription as me.
"Hi, I'm John."
"Hi, I'm David"
"That's funny, my second name's David"
"That's funny, my middle name's John"
"Haha, you know what, my Dad's named David John"
"Even stranger, my sister's boyfriend's named Jon David"
Next time, I'll bring some whisky. And music.