Hard core

The following description of my weekend is hard core, not in the naughty video sense just in the sense of being hard core, it's not for the light hearted sort or anyone who says 'I say, mind if you hold off on the Pimms a bit, I had a heavy night last night'.

This story really starts on Thursday when I went wine tasting, I got myself comfortably drunk, not quite ruined but more than enough so that I didn't feel like doing much the next day. Instead of not much I wrote a lot of words and then in the evening I went to a party.

These parties are special because they are a bit rude (yes that sort of rude), they are organised in the middle of no-where so you have to slog across London to get there. And even more amusingly are organised by the party organiser. The one who talks to me like I'm a moron, bless. Anyway she doesn't do that anymore because this time I was going to her party to review it. What a good weeze!

The chaps and I, got dressed up. The theme was a sexy Christmas office party so I was dressed as an angel, in a suit so I was an 'office angel'. This costume involved a viciously well cut pinstripe number, some wings a halo and about half a tonne of glitter and gold body paint for anything visible. My hands are still a bit sparkly.

After a bit of struggling with eyeliner we were suitably angelic looking and we bimbled over to meet up with a friend and then onto the party. The photographer who was there to take a few shots of me at the party had arrived before us and he was having so much fun getting strangers (girls in their underwear) to pose for him that didn't actually take any photos of me.

I was only going to stay for an hour or so because I was tired and I had something big the next day but by the time I checked my pocket watch it was 4am. I had a really good time, loads of old friends were there Hannah the lovely Dominatrix, The Blond Bombshell, M the DJ (who is terrifyingly pretty in drag) and various other old salts who I've not rubbed shoulders with in ages. Before I realised it, the club was closing. Well I say club the event was in a huge mansion with a plethora of rooms each filled with something slightly more bizarre happening. Nothing actually 'adult' but right on the edge of it like a racy re-make of a John Hughes film (of the Pretty in Pink/Weird Science type).

At around 6:30 I was outside somewhere in SE21, I had no idea that postcodes went up that high and I had left my coat and most of my other stuff at a friends house - this friend had disappeared with a German woman with a whip earlier on and had not re-appeared. I was in a bit of a pickle.

There was a bus going to an after party for those that hadn't quite danced enough, but sadly all the tickets had been sold out. I couldn't even catch a lift into the centre of London because of 'health and safety'

I looked around me and it was dark. I was lost with no chance of getting a cab and my phone was being wonky. It is times like that when a chap has to jolly well get a stiff upper lip and do the British thing. First I changed my outfit and hid my wings. The bus driver had spotted me asking about getting on the bus and new I was a 'no' I borrowed a wig of someone else and then waited until the bus driver leaned over to get some chewing gum out of his pocket. Quick as a flash I zoomed into the bus and dived onto a seat near the back. The next 30 minutes were gripping as I hid in terror of being kicked off the bus in some ungodly part of down wearing a wig and painted gold.

The spirits of the great escape were with me that day and after what seemed like an age I got off the bus and walked the remaining way home. I was feeling rather chuffed with myself until I glanced at my watch. It was 7:20! I rushed the remaining way home but only had about 20 minutes before I had to set off again. I spent almost all this time trying to remove eyeliner.

20 minutes of frantic scrubbing later and I was still looking rather 'intense' around the eyes, but I had no more time and so I had to go to the next task of the weekend, a comedy course in North London.

I wasn't even hungover when I first arrived, I was drunk but with a very clean face. It started off well enough because I managed to drink about four pints of coffee which kept me awake if made me go to the loo constantly. I laughed a lot and got really into it, the people on the course were v. entertaining and the teachers were excellent. At the end of the day we had to perform a set in front of the rest of the class which was really frightening, I think because after the talk was given everyone would provide feedback on what you said but everyone was very nice and laughed in all the right places.

Apart of me is looking forward to the set I have to do now, but I'm still slightly worried about it, either way I can't do much because I have to finish this silly book.

After show I went out for a drink or two with the people which wasn't a great idea, I returned home an exhausted mess and only wrote a dozen or so words before I went to bed.

The next day was very productive, I wrote 5,000 words before what I was typing turned into nonsense and finished off a feature. Ding-dong and all that. I'm going to have to go out on extreme weekends more often.