Monday, August 23, 2004
Tina's doing her dance
Jon's looking for romance
Paul's getting down on the floor
While Hannah's screaming out for more (ooh)
Wanna see Bradley swing
Wanna see Rachel do her thing
Then we got Jo, she's got the flow
Get ready everybody 'cos here we go (woah)
S Club
There ain't no party like an S Club party, hey ho!
- S Club 7
While probably not as deliriously pleasurable as an S Club party, my Hot August Night flat warming certainly was a lot of fun. So thanks pals, for making it such a great night - the recipe for Chuxpunch is below. It was great to use my gaff for a party, and apart from a few 'will anyone turn up?' nerves, the night went without a hitch. Though I did become slightly concerned by the music volume at one point, but after a while the Chuxpunch began to work its peculiar magic and that became less and less of a concern.
We drank 'til late and all was good with the world. I retired to bed around two. The following morning I excused myself from my six lady friends and went into the lounge. 'Come back to bed Chuck', they whispered in unison, falling over themselves as they reached toward my trailing dressing gown cord. Tempting as that was, I had to survey the damage, and surprisingly, apart from looking like a bottle bank on Boxing Day, everything seemed to be pretty much in its place. I came back in shaking my head 'Well ladies, I'll be damned, it looks like we got away with it' - but they were nowhere to be seen. Was it all some crazy dream? Well if it were, it was a good one. Anyhow, the only slight mishap was a small stain on a sofa cushion, which I fixed by throwing it in the wash. It got rid of the stain, but shrunk the covering by about a quarter, so I now have slightly uneven sofa cushions. Great if any Hobbits pop by - welcome Pippin! - but a little odd looking otherwise.
The clean up was painless, though I was concerned that my landlord may pay a visit at any minute. He lives upstairs, and if anyone was to benefit from the pleasure obtained from Bob Sinclair's Champs Elysees album at one in the morning, it was him. He didn't knock on the door, but as I was walking around the corner carrying a huge sack of clanging bottles, there he was. I felt my guts turn over, but realised there was no getting out of it. It was time to face the music.
Ah, he said, how did the flat warming go?
Great! Yeah really good, hope we didn't keep you up.
What was that?
I said I hope we didn't keep you up.
Not at all, I didn't hear a thing.
The joys of a hearing impaired landlord cannot be overrated.
Chuxpunch
1 cup rum
1 cup port
1 cup creme de cassis
1 cup Royal Cup or Pimms
500 mls orange juice
500 mls dark grape juice
500 mls apple and boysenberry juice
500 mls water
Halved lemons and tamarillos
Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog (optional)
Jon's looking for romance
Paul's getting down on the floor
While Hannah's screaming out for more (ooh)
Wanna see Bradley swing
Wanna see Rachel do her thing
Then we got Jo, she's got the flow
Get ready everybody 'cos here we go (woah)
S Club
There ain't no party like an S Club party, hey ho!
- S Club 7
While probably not as deliriously pleasurable as an S Club party, my Hot August Night flat warming certainly was a lot of fun. So thanks pals, for making it such a great night - the recipe for Chuxpunch is below. It was great to use my gaff for a party, and apart from a few 'will anyone turn up?' nerves, the night went without a hitch. Though I did become slightly concerned by the music volume at one point, but after a while the Chuxpunch began to work its peculiar magic and that became less and less of a concern.
We drank 'til late and all was good with the world. I retired to bed around two. The following morning I excused myself from my six lady friends and went into the lounge. 'Come back to bed Chuck', they whispered in unison, falling over themselves as they reached toward my trailing dressing gown cord. Tempting as that was, I had to survey the damage, and surprisingly, apart from looking like a bottle bank on Boxing Day, everything seemed to be pretty much in its place. I came back in shaking my head 'Well ladies, I'll be damned, it looks like we got away with it' - but they were nowhere to be seen. Was it all some crazy dream? Well if it were, it was a good one. Anyhow, the only slight mishap was a small stain on a sofa cushion, which I fixed by throwing it in the wash. It got rid of the stain, but shrunk the covering by about a quarter, so I now have slightly uneven sofa cushions. Great if any Hobbits pop by - welcome Pippin! - but a little odd looking otherwise.
The clean up was painless, though I was concerned that my landlord may pay a visit at any minute. He lives upstairs, and if anyone was to benefit from the pleasure obtained from Bob Sinclair's Champs Elysees album at one in the morning, it was him. He didn't knock on the door, but as I was walking around the corner carrying a huge sack of clanging bottles, there he was. I felt my guts turn over, but realised there was no getting out of it. It was time to face the music.
Ah, he said, how did the flat warming go?
Great! Yeah really good, hope we didn't keep you up.
What was that?
I said I hope we didn't keep you up.
Not at all, I didn't hear a thing.
The joys of a hearing impaired landlord cannot be overrated.
Chuxpunch
1 cup rum
1 cup port
1 cup creme de cassis
1 cup Royal Cup or Pimms
500 mls orange juice
500 mls dark grape juice
500 mls apple and boysenberry juice
500 mls water
Halved lemons and tamarillos
Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog (optional)
