Friday Night birthday party

Carol and I were invited to a friends Friday. It was a 16th birthday party, which amounted to googles of hormonal teenagers and 5 adults that were there to maintain some type of order.
We failed.
Arrived at 9.00pm to be greeted by GG. We call her GG because her boobs said hello about three minutes before the rest of her turned up. I don’t know if you know this but 1517 perished on the Titanic. Without being over jovial, far more would have survived had those buoyancy aids been aboard. It’s hard to actually work out how many more women and children could have hung on to each of them. Which in turn would have left more lifeboats free for the men.

By 9.15 someone had put their hand through a glass door. While GG held the wound together and bandaged her (this actually was a short term solution as she had to be taken hospital later for stitching) I started cleaning the glass up. Choo Choo told me I should be wearing gloves and he had some. Now choo choo is a train driver named Paul, so I was expecting some heavy-duty man type industrial grey coloured man glove. (You know the ones, truckers have them). I can sense you are nodding your head to this. Ok well imagine this.
A 68 yr old lady leaves the WI meeting on her way to help with flower arranging at the local church. She drives a Morris minor traveller (that was the one made from wood). She has a tweed jacket with matching plaid pleated skirt (think Miss Marple and you are getting there). She gets in her car and gets her gloves out to put on.
Ok got it. That’s what Paul handed to me. I instantly asked him if he was gay.

These gloves obviously had special talents though.

By 9.40 the first set of ‘older boys’ were trying to gatecrash via the back door. Choo Choo went out to sort it out. I think from now on I may just call him Paul. He moved them on. Then the police arrived. I went to speak to the police as they had been told about people trying to get into the house. So I start talking and suddenly realise I still have the gloves on and I don’t live at this house. It suddenly dawned on me that this type of glove would also be an ideal glove for committing burglary. Soft black leather is just ideal. I still had the makeshift crowbar in my hand (the one I had used to knock the remaining glass out with) and suddenly the police seemed very interested in me. I decided the best way forward was to pretend to be Paul’s boyfriend. These were very gay gloves after all. Fortunately ‘Fee fi fo fum’ turned up who owns the house and explained. (I can’t explain why I call her Fee fi fo fum but it’s part of a rhyme). Police leave, I go back inside, boys turn back up. Paul wants to fight said boys but needs gloves. These bloody gloves had magic talents. While he was outside squaring up to what after all were children I was looking for a spit bucket and little stool that I could sit him on between rounds?

By the time I got outside, boys had gone and Paul looking very pleased with himself squatting around, gloves on like a victorious umpa lumpa. I towelled him down and checked for bruising (nearly typed swelling but realised it would sound wrong)

So it was time to get back to the party. Might tell you more later but I need fluid and some sleep now because I think a cat may have accidentally shit in my mouth last night.