impromptu house parties are definately one of the only small joys of our fucking waste generation. that is, of course, unless its your turn to be the hostess with the moststress. and yes, it has to be your turn sometime, so none of this im-a-goer-not-a-thrower catshit!
although after forcing yourself to drink three times as many rum shots as you can handle, purely to drown the constant worry about whether or not your skitzy mate will freak and spitroast the rabbit, theres nothing better than rooting out 20 stinkin teens on sunday morning and grinning inside, knowing that at least 5 of them will let you vom up in their bathroom sometime within the next year because of your sacrifice this weekend.
last night, and this morning, and then that heavenly bout of time inbetween where no thoughts exist apart from the required concentration to hang off each other and jump around to modern lovers, are the three vital stages of a properly correct british house bash.
within these three stages are several standard situations that can be ticked off along side the obvious crates and bottles, DIY ipod/amplifier stereos and your mischevious bunch of chums, to ensure true authentication of this pitiful english tradition.
* pool action; fully clothed, unclothed, consented, unconsented.
* grizzly monch; impulse trips throughout the night to the local 24/7 to buy mr kippling cakes and crisps, prawn crackers, chicken curry and cocopops.
* mid party bedroom squat; 3am mass retreats into the smallest bedroom in the house and acoustic set including a dock of the bay cover .
* waking up to some new wall art; group midnight painting sessions including on each other, the walls, windowsillx and roof, finding war poetry written by your window.
* chain smokers galore; dirty mid party scavving, zippo lighters and homemade lighter fuel.
* vicious arguments amongst the girls, mindless playfights
* mid party baths; and maybe or maybe not silhoutted steamy bath action, partly visible from the garden, thanks to the pitch black night and bright white lightbulbs.
* the pikey nutter drinking stella that tries to crash in.
* complaining neighbours on your doorstep in navy blue dressing gowns.
* SOMEONE sicking up on the floor to roof glass slidey door
* and of course the classic jack daniels/white lightening toxic cocktail induced temporary romance.
top it off by waking up with different coloured skin due to an early morning paint fight and you'll probably succeed in sorting out your wet, sticky and fragile circle of friends with shit to chat about for the next few hours.
just make sure you have a couple of them who love you enough to stick around to help rebuild the house and wash up the 25 dutty plates, pint glasses, fathers day mugs and plastic 'beakers'. special thanks to kate hydeh fiona and oliver.
oh and make sure you keep tabs on who goes home in your clothes. what to wear for the next 5 days!?
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