2007 Already, whoo hoo!
We went to a New Year's Eve party at fingerless hoodlum Andy Skellam's luxurious penthouse apartment in Clifton Village and drank copious amounts of whiskey and beer (but strangely no champagne). It was a fairly small, exclusive gathering consisting of housemates James and Marietti, fello hairy Buddah Dan, and a couple of other people I didn't really know, but they seemed very nice.
We played charades using only one word or the power of mime to guess the celebrity in the top hat, which exposed my sheer ignorance of any figure in the public eye. The best example of this would be my description of Boris Becker as "That Tory guy with the hair" to the bemusement and amusement of the entire party. Same first name though, so pretty close I thought.
After much dancing and singing we shouted at Andy's neighbours who actually pay a lot of money to rent houses around that area, perhaps under the misconception that it's a nice area and that drunken twentysomethings won't be leaning out of the windows screaming "Happy New Year/Andy's got gonorrhea!" at them. Ha! The fools.
At the end of the evening Alex broke the zip on my boot which was a real problem because our house is about an hour from Andy's, my drunken logic led me to believe that cutting across the zip with a pair of kitchen scissors would in some way help me to re-thread the zipper. Thank God Dan dissuaded me from this course of action and Andy had to bind my boot up with some string like a young Chinese girl for the long walk home. I was amazed that it lasted the journey. That's why NOT to buy cheap ass Primark footwear!
Beautiful songs by The Fingerless Hoodlum:-