A number of my closest friends and I were recently invited to a party. It was billed as a “Wear a Fancy Dress” party. I am always up for one of these and they are becoming increasingly popular in that London. We all trotted off to a pub on the South Bank, called the Founders Arms, wearing our favourite frocks and heels. Giving joy, shock and awe to the multitudes of tourists.
We were stood around chatting, posing, bitching and getting drunk when George made his grand entrance. We burst out laughing when we realised that he had missed the point.
The Founders Arms is situated on the river very close to the world famous Globe theatre. George thought it would be the perfect idea to arrive at this “Fancy Dress” party dressed as Shakespeare, his favourite Warwickshire born playwright. He was resplendent in his Elizabethan/Jacobean garb, all frilly collars and cuffs and silly shiny buckle shoes. He had a little wispy goatee beard glued to his chin.
“It’s a ‘Wear a Fancy Dress’ party George, not ‘Historical Figure’ fancy dress, that’s next week. Are you some kind of Muppet?”
“I am not a Muppet, I am Shakey.”
“Stevens?”
“No, Shakespeare. You dumb ass.”
George stormed off towards the bar to order a large whiskey. This was quickly followed by another altercation. The landlord was shouting loudly at George and pointing towards the door. George walked past, shaking his head and staring at the beer-stained floor. Under his breath he mumbled, “O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!”
“You’re barred,” screamed the landlord.
2 Comments
The landlord should have told him ‘You’re bard.’
Hehe - you’re bard, geddit?
Yes I do. That was kinda the point, ya know.