Our survey said...

Last night turned out to be a success in the end. No hitches with the Chinese food (thankfully, after the cooking week from hell), seven happy people and not an exploding spring roll in sight. Except, apparently my cocktails (Gatsbys) were a wee bit too lethal for some. My friend S texted me today to say she is never drinking them ever again. I can only hope she managed to keep her head out of the loo long enough to salvage some of her Sunday. (S: What was in those bloody cocktails? Me: Southern Comfort, ginger and lime. S: Southern Comfort? Southern Hell! Me: Oops.) Oh dear.

Actually, it was probably the fault of the toxic cocktails that we all started playing a very merry version of Family Fortunes (with buzzers, 'our survey said' sound effects and everything - it was most exciting for a bunch of sozzled individuals). It's always the way when you've had a drink - even innocent games become innuendo laden. This was no exception. The air was positively blue. Even more so since we were in the presence of The Man Who Can Make Anything Into a Double Entendre. My Other Half took up the role of game show host/Les Dennis for the evening and even he struggled to keep his composure as the answers just kept getting worse and worse. This was a very tame one before the second pitcher of Gatsbys made an appearance:

Les Dennis: "Name something you might find in a church."
Team A: "Love beads!"
Team B: "A threesome!"

And it got slowly worse.

Anyhoo. For no apparent reason, the night then progressed into what can only be described as a gurning competition. You can imagine those pictures, I'm sure. Our living room was taken over by a herd of insanely grinning, cross-eyed, elasticated-mouthed lunatics. And on almost every photo, my face is apparently made of rubber and I look like the second cousin of Jim Carrey on day release from a mental ward . I really must work on that.