Hen Night Horror
Written at 12:57 p.m. on 2007-02-21
Hen Night Horror
My sort of friend Clare (was one of my bridesmaids, said she couldn�t come to my hen day because she was going shopping with her boyfriend to get him a suit, asked me at my wedding reception if I wouldn�t mind not being her chief bridesmaid coz Ciera wanted to do it then uninvited me and Ciera from being bridesmaids at all in favour of just having her fiance�s god daughter) has announced her hen night plans and expects me to attend. Now normally I�m all up for a good night out, I love a party and I love a drink. But there�s a catch. In fact there�s 2.
1) The hen night is fancy dress. The theme: Grab a granny, it�s Over 80s night. I�m not bloody joking, she wants us all to dress up as grannies. With the right group of people this could be a good laugh. For example if we did this with the pub lads it would quite possibly be the funniest night you have ever had but the only people I�ll know are Clare, her sister Marie (lawyer, doesn�t drink), Ciera (great laugh, fab girl) and Katie (completely self absorbed, really quite loathsome, once tried to persuade me that her friends had told her to come into town for a drink therefore it was their fault that she got shitfaced and shagged some random down an alleyway behind her husband�s back. Again. Slapper). So it�s not exactly a group of people I would choose to go on a fancy dress evening with. And to sort the costume is going to cost me a fortune, I need an old lady dress, old lady shoes, rollers and a rainhood or headscarf, none of which I own and I�m beyond skint at the moment.
2) The hen night is in Rochdale. For anyone who doesn�t know the North of England very well, Rochdale is what is known locally as a �Shithole�. About 20 years ago a government initiative was run to try and stamp out the rash of �non random mating� going on in inner city Rochdale sink estates. Yep, Rochdale was full of people who sleep with members of their own family. I�m not joking, this is actually true, you can look it up. And if you go into any Rochdale bar or club on a Saturday night you will realise just how little the government initiative achieved because it really is chav scum central. You could add up the combined number of braincells in a packed Rochdale bar using the fingers of 1 hand. It really is a bloody toilet of a place. If we go into Rochdale dressed as grannies on a Saturday night it is very likely that one or more of us will get absolutely twatted by a local and spend the rest of the year eating liquidized food. Given my luck this month it is more than likely that that person will be me.
So now I have to come up with an inspired excuse as to why I can�t go and to be honest I�m not coming up with much. So far the best I have come up with is that I have chicken pox/ ebola virus/ the plague which is not terribly imaginative.
