Fancy that

It's not something that I'm overly proud of, nor is it something I'm ashamed of. It's just a fact. I thoroughly enjoy a well orchestrated fancy dress party. If everyone makes an effort, it's the absolute balls. In a good way. But is this normal for a 28-year-old adult human male? Is it acceptable that in the last month alone I have been to two fancy dress parties, seeing me saunter around dressed as Papa Smurf and, more recently, famous TV News anchor, Ron Burgundy? Quite frankly, I think it's a joy. So long as everyone goes all out, no one takes themselves too seriously and at least one outfit borders on public indecency, I think it's up there with the greatest fun ever. Dare I say it, almost as much fun as an hour of Aeroball at Woking leisure centre (who knew four people and a ball on a trampoline divided by netting could be so much fun?). If you'd told me a week ago that I'd spend Friday night in a local nightclub, wearing a second-hand M&S ladies mauve trouser suit, there's a fair chance I'd have thrown gravel at you. But that's exactly what happened, and I enjoyed every minute of it! So here it is, my salute to wearing ill-fitting clothes, face paint and wigs. 

Fancy dress - single handedly keeping the Addlestone branch of Oxfam open. Cheers!