Party- the low down.

I'm sure you're all dying to hear about how the party went and I only wish I was able to tell you with any degree of certainty.

Unfortunately my funny story telling abilities are hampered somewhat by just how trashed I got, but I'm pretty sure a good time was had by all (especially me).

These are my top funny party moments (though some are funnier in hindsight and some are more cringe worthy)

1) Steve in silver boots

Having size 6 feet is often problematic for Steve. In most situations it's because shops just don't start their men's ranges from such a tiny size. At parties- it's because women all insist on him wearing their shoes. At one stage I remember Steve staggering into my bedroom wearing brown knee high furry boots and the next thing I know, he's wearing some metallic silver pointy knee highs with silver heels. He always pretends he hates it, but I recall him posing for some dubious pictures. Keep an eye on face book for these.

2) Pseudo lessie behaviour

Do you think perhaps it might have been a boy who suggested it was a good idea for all us girls to compare the colours of our nipples whilst kissing and being photographed? Hmmmmmm, I would have thought so. It's a good job we were sober enough to tut and cast our eyes to heaven and pull our tops up to our chins shaking our heads disapprovingly. Yes, this IS what happened. As Lindsey said, let's hope none of us ever become famous, put it this way, we won't be applying for any reality TV shows too smartish. Although we'd be bloody good in them.

3) Lindsey and the album

I found Lindsey on her bed with a tortured looking little brother by her side. She was thumbing through old albums talking in detail about every last shot and explaining EXACTLY how she felt about them. Her little brother was trying so hard to make appropriate comments and not look ridiculously bored. She then told him she'd seen him with an erection- embarrassing sister, eat your heart out.

4) Fireworks

Despite being a very budding and talented illustrator, our confidence was not 100% invested in Matt Ox's ability to create a seamless and safe fireworks display. In fact, at 11pm, when we all gathered on the pavement and peered up at the roof terrace the rockets which peeked over the top reminded me of sniper's guns and I was all too aware that there was a VERY good chance that we could well be in the line of fire. Thankfully it was all fine, and Matt got to blow up some things which kept him happy. Lots of the fireworks shot over into trees so we couldn't see them from the pavement, but they made very loud bangs, and let's face it, that's all that really matters.

5) The copper

Ok, so inviting a copper to a house party isn’t the first thing that springs to mind, but he's a very good old friend of mine and luckily he was easy to pick out with his short back and sides and stripy shirt. Whilst he tried very hard to be cool about the debauchery others didn't do quite as good a job reciprocating. In fact at any one time I think there was a good 2 metre gap around him and I could sense lots of paranoia and gossiping. Thankfully he left at midnight before it all got very out of hand.

6) The lost voice

Where ever Laura goes, men fall in love with her and my party was, of course, no exception. By the end of the night, she'd done so much chattering, smoking and social butterflying, she came bursting into my room, flung herself on the bed and tried to talk and only high pitched squeals and screeching came out. We promptly administered more booze and fags and she was fine.

7) The Phantom smearer

We've all seen it in public loos, but yes, it was on show in the downstairs bathroom. Someone had taken it upon themselves to smear poo on the wall next to the toilet. When I told Steve he said to me that we should be pleased that there were no white hand towels in the bathroom- needless to say at a recent party he'd attended someone had taken it upon themselves to wipe their bottom on the hand towel and leave behind all kinds of evidence. Apparently we got away lightly. It didn't feel like it yesterday morning with a stinking hangover and a jay cloth trying not to gag.

8) Sam's tights

Sam managed to get dishevelled very rapidly throughout the party and at one point looked very much like her and her tights had had a very nasty encounter with a bramble bush. Perhaps it was just that Gavin couldn't contain himself, but at the end of the evening, she rather flamboyantly declared they were coming off and they did- with legs flailing and a' kimbo. Marvellous.

I'm sure there was much more, but I'll need to see some pictures first to jog my memory.

I lost a £25 Marks and Spencer's voucher, some green beads, some shoes and all of my weed. Very annoying. Thankfully Sam had all but one of these things. Hurrah! Steve managed to misplace £50, which wasn't so helpfully returned. What a wally.

A massive thanks in particular to all the Brighton contingent who made a huge effort to come all the way from the seaside, it meant so much to me....and I can't believe you all went home at 5am....nutters! To Jonathan- I'm so gutted you missed out on the fun, you would have had a blast- next time.

The girly get-together

Last night we had a little dinner party where we had the following:

X 1 very drunk guest who passed out promptly after dinner and proceeded to sleep for 12 hours
X2 very opinionated guests who shouted at the drunken guest and talked over each other
X1 very poorly wheezing asthmatic but diplomatic guest with rosy cheeks
X1 slightly perplexed but very sleek and skinny guest

‘Guest’ is somewhat of a misnomer as 3 of the guests were in fact inmates. And the drunk guest was in fact drunk from the second she staggered in the front door with a man in tow (girly dinner party no-no). The man was soon despatched and we got down to the serious business of gobbling chinese and slurping wine.

I have to say that if any man had been a fly on the wall last night, or worst still had the misfortune to be a guest they would have been shocked to their very core. 5 normally fairly well behaved ladies when thrown together to discuss a contentious topic quickly became a shrieking, voice raised, me-me-me-ish cacophony each trying to get their VERY important point heard first. And of course there were no shortage of extremely well thought through opinions, it’s just that they were delivered somewhat haphazardly.

At one point Lindsey pleaded with us:

“Please can we all try and speak one at a time?”

Tricky. We did try, but of course it wasn’t possible and within seconds we were all screeching again with Lindsey resting her head in her hands.

And even when the victim of our well rounded advice finally passed out (or at least feigned passing out to escape) we turned our attentions to other important topics such as a health concern of one of the boyfriends- we helpfully diagnosed a likely inner eat infection and suggested treatment of a simple course of anti-biotics, a ‘how to’ guide for some of the most gruesome bedroom antics helpfully provided by Samantha which almost provoked a scene from ‘In bed with Madonna’ and also an in-depth examination of the nations sexual habits (based purely upon ours so extremely well rounded).

We were like a pack of Tasmanian devils, whizzing and whirling at dizzying speed between topics polishing them off and then swiftly onwards towards our next prey. When I went to bed I was utterly exhausted. We all need at least a fortnight to recover before another similar event, if nothing else but to hone the skills Sam taught us.

Gavin- you deviant.

It's a cute infestation...honest!

Last night I went out and it's fair to say I got a leeeeeetle bit drunk.

I arrived home to find Steve in his suit in the kitchen, clasping a burger, (so I knew he was similarly tanked) and Andrew, his lodger, in his bed gear. They were both staring at the kitchen floor in silence. At first I thought maybe they were in the midst of an arguement but it turns out, the reason they were stood there is because Andrew had spotted a mouse.

To be honest, I'm not an overly squeamish girl, and mice don't upset me in the slightest. Unless they are eating my food, which is never a good thing for anyone to do, man or beast. I told them that all we had to do was move all of the food in the bottom cupboards up to the top ones, give them a decent bleach/clean, and then get some little mice traps to catch the cute little blighters. Steve looked at me with big drunk sad eyes and asked what we'd do with them when we caught them, and, noting his distress, I told him we'd release them in small nuclear family groups (how do you sex mice? ) onto the common where they could frolic and play and mate and eat cheese to their hearts content.

So we discussed the options of catching them. Andrew said that these days, traps don’t necessarily contain poison but instead entice them into a little box with some cheese like in the cartoons (a ‘mouse house’ if you will). Alternatively you can get ones with super sticky sheets of paper which they literally stick to. I’m not a fan of this idea as for me it’s like making a mice live out a nightmare. You know the ones when something awful is happening and you try and run, and can’t. I’m not putting them through that. At least with ‘the little box’ you can put something cosy in there so that after they eat the cheese they can have a little snooze before their release.

I can tell what’s going to happen. We’re going to end up with Milly, Molly, Martin, Melvin, Morris, Mini and Morticia the mice, with their own room in the flat. It’ll be mouse friendly, with a bed made of cheese and lots of tiny brushes for whisker grooming, and tiny wheels to spin around for exercise and, well, you get the picture.

And then we can just open the flat up as a nature reserve and people can come and marvel at the moths and the mice and all of nature’s wonderful creatures. Ah-men.