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The beat of the drum goes round and around 2006-08-21 | 10:10 p.m. Ok, the London Underground party. Never been to a party quite like it! I mean, the hosts dressed up as Underground workers and turned their flat into London Underground Heaven. They had a different coloured spirit-based drink to match the colour of every tube line (District, for example, was Apple Sourz as it's green, but some of the others, like the maroon Metropolitan line, were fucking vile). We were issued 'tickets' as we entered the party and had to have all the different tube lines/drinks ticked off as we had them. God, I wish I had taken a camera to capture some of the truly splendiferous outfits but we did manage to take a few on the boyfriend's cameraphone, hence the crappy quality. My outfit, I am pleased to admit, had a fantastic reception. I went as Greenwich:
The boyfriend dressed up as Peter Crouch being 'ended' by having a sword go through him (Crouch End...which we soon realised isn't actually a tube stop, though it is a place in London. He got away with being Liverpool St though!).
And at the party were Barbie and Ken (who've swapped wigs in this pic): Barbican.
There was also... A pair of tennis players: Wimbledon. A girl with a packet of ham in each hand, which she would bring together : Clapham. A bloke wearing a wig with a giant novelty spliff in it: High Barnet. (Genius!) The boyfriend's friend Joel who'd attached beer cans all over himself, so he was essentually 'made of ale': Maidavale. The guy who dressed up as Cockfosters I don't really want to go into, but suffice to say it involved Fosters beer and a condom and a pork product of a tubular nature. There were the expected ones like King's Cross and Angel and some which needless to say I've forgotten but I think one of the most bizarre ones was the man who'd made his face up to look Chinese and was wearing a t-shirt with the word 'HELLO' sitting above a green mound. Which was Harrow-on-Hill. After some time we all ventured in our costumes to a bar, where the boy managed to get my hat bloody confiscated! They had a no hats policy (even though King's Cross wasn't allowed in without his crown but then had to take it off at the bar...numpties) so I duly took mine off not wanting to cause aggro. The boyfriend decided this was a ridiculous policy and shoved the hat on his head until some woman removed it and put it high up on a shelf behind the bar. I got it back but it did get lost at some point on the (�60...erk!) journey home. I'm still in mourning. Yesterday we didn't get up until half six in the evening. I actually felt disgusted with myself - ah, happy memories. |
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