I could write about rising oil prices I suppose, but I think it’s time for a funny.
First of all, I was a lot younger then!
I was invited to a ladies Hen Party when visiting a friend, and thought why not?
However, it was not the kind of hen party I was used to, as this involved drag acts, a comedian/singer and a male stripper or two.
It did not help that we were practically the last to arrive and the only seats available for the 3 of us to sit together was at the front (honest).
The drag artists were brilliant, I loved their outfits and wished I could apply my makeup so flatteringly.
The comedian/singer had me in stitches to such an extent that I had to excuse myself halfway through his act as I was laughing so much. He picked up on it and started to tease, so I told him it was his own fault as he shouldn’t be so damn funny!
However, it was the first stripper that was my undoing. I got dragged up onto the floor and given a bottle of baby oil, which I was told I could apply anywhere.
Leaving behind a shiny chested gyrating man, I came offstage with very slippery hands, a very red face, and catcalls of ‘chicken’, but all in the best possible taste.
I have not been able to look at baby oil in the same way since, and don’t get me started on chippolatas.