THE HEN NIGHT

THE HEN NIGHT

I just couldn't imagine wearing that dress. It was red and very revealing but I loved it. Yes, I thought, I'm going to wow them in that little number. As I came out of the changing room I caught sight of a misshapen large red sack of nutty slack, on taking a second look I decided, this dress wasn't for me. No, I think I'll settle on the midnight blue pantsuit with the long jacket to hide my bum!!

Going home in the car, I glanced into the rear view mirror and admired my new hair-do, not the thing to be doing while you're driving. My long painted fingernails shone and the fake tan didn't look too patchy, I decided that it may be mutton dressed as lamb, but all in all I didn't look bad for forty two.

I lounged in the bath that evening with bubbles up to the ceiling. OK I know it was a mistake to drop a full bottle of bubble bath into running water, the wall of foam as I opened the door was enormous. I thought about the coming evening.

This was Janet's third wedding and her biggest hen night to date. Thirty seven rampant women of all ages, rampaging through the male population at speeds unknown to mankind. God help them. I couldn't help thinking that Janet and her future husband John were made for each other. She was as loud and outgoing as he was quiet and reserved, a marriage made in heaven!

I got dressed, pulling on my sheepdog bra, the one that 'rounds 'em up and heads 'em out'. I just couldn't face squeezing into the new girdle I'd bought, so it was ‘suck it in' time. The new pant suit fitted a treat and went well with my comfy gold sandals. There was no way I was going out in new shoes, stupid I'm not.

I was finishing my make-up, applying the thirty-seventh layer of mascara, when the doorbell rang and the first of the tribe arrived. As I opened the door, a flash of black and gold raced past me yelling "if I don't get to a loo soon my bladder will burst". The thought of that happening will stay with me for a long time. The flash of black and gold was my mate Maddie, or as we know her, Mad Maddie. She had made the art of meeting men an Olympic event, tripping them up and being underneath them before they hit the ground. She came down the stairs a little slower than she went up them, "lost my damn thong again" she muttered. That's another thought to file away. As I left her adjusting her underwear, not a pretty sight, I answered the front door to the next lot of trouble.

As the sixteenth lady, I use the term loosely, arrived I started to worry that the wine bottles would take me a week to deposit into the bottle bank. Wine was flowing like water and now they had started on a litre bottle of schnapps that Daisy had brought with her.

The evening had begun!

As the first of the taxis' arrived, I tried to herd mounds of drunken flesh out of the front door. What were my neighbours going to think, I could see the net curtains twitching from here. The squeals of delight as the mob behind me spotted another two taxis' coming down the road. If I hadn't stepped back I swear that I would have been trampled underfoot in the stampede that followed. Before locking the front door I glanced into what was left of my sitting room, I thought to myself that this mess would take the whole weekend to clear. Ah well, sod it, I'll worry about that tomorrow.

As I opened the taxi door to get in, the girls were in full chant of "get 'em off, get 'em off, get 'em off" to a blushing young taxi driver. God bless him, he'd earn his tip tonight. The mix of perfumes in such a small space almost made me faint, but I couldn't risk ruining my new hair-do by opening the window, so I tried to breathe through my mouth. The coughing fit that followed made my eyes water so much, the mascara I had applied so carefully to my eyelashes was half way down my face, making me look like that famous rock star. I opened the window. We set off, a convoy of screaming, shouting, singing females with only one thought on their minds.
Fun!!! Fun!!! Fun!!!

The journey was filled with comments about who was wearing what, with plenty of sniggers and a few bitchy comments. Who was doing what, with who and when and how and sometimes why. The gossip was in full swing when we arrived at the night-club. We pulled up at about the same time as the bride-to-be's rabble. A bevy of beauties spilled out of the taxis and onto the pavement.

I started to laugh at the sight in front of me, a dozen burly bouncers climbing over each other, trying to get into the night-club before the tidal wave of women hit. The look of fear was a picture, so I just had to get my camera out. If only I'd brought my video camera, I'd have enough clips to send to "You've Been Framed" to last a whole series!

As luck would have it, yesterday, a huge American aircraft carrier pulled into port and the seafront was awash with more men than you could shake a stick at. I must admit, I then joined the girls. WOLF-WHISTLING, catcalling and the like, I know I will regret this in the morning.

As soon as the mob got into the club, we hit the bar. More alcohol. Then we hit the dance floor. More alcohol. Another dance. More alcohol. Another dance. More alcohol. A mass trip to the loo. More alcohol. As the evening wears on my eyesight is becoming hazy, I'm not sure why, I think I need a drink.

A few of our troop have snared a yank or two or three, but the English guys were all crying into their beers, they hate it when the yanks are in. Let's face it, I'd rather talk to a polite American than a surly BRIT any day.

As the evening wore on the handbag mound in the middle of the dance floor grew bigger. To a sober man it may have resembled a large bonfire and the women dancing around it were screaming for another sacrifice.

Some of the wimps of the party had left, most to go to casualty to have their stomachs pumped, but there always seemed to be more girls to take their places. The group had grown to about fifty now and the few brave (stupid) sailors that had tried to pick off the stragglers at the edge, were now paying the price. I witnessed that night a new and very disturbing way of reducing a grown man to tears.

The bride-to-be, Janet, was now up on the small platform where the DJ stood. She was resplendent in her mock veil, L plates, fake plastic boobs and an enormous pink fluffy ball and chain round her ankle. The DJ had decided to play 'The CanCan', it took about three seconds for him to realize his mistake. Janet was not a small lady by any means. As she got her left leg in the air, the record jumped and then DJ hit his head on the low ceiling. By the time Janet's right leg with the ball and chain on had swung up, taking out a small glass collector on its way, the whole nightclub was shaking including the light fittings. She proceeded to trip over her ball and chain, somersault and land on her fake plastic boobs. As she limped off the dance floor for another drink, I watched as they carried off the DJ and the small glass collector. Casualty would be busy tonight.

A replacement DJ was found and he decided to slow things down a bit. The handbag mound disappeared as if by magic and the dance floor cleared. As I turned to look at Maddie, my jaw hit the floor. Damn shoes got caught in the carpet. I lay there in a crumpled heap as a throng of burly men hauled me to my feet. I think some of them need to be taught how to help a lady up, God, I've got more fingerprints on me than Scotland Yard have in their files. Now it was my turn to limp off the dance floor and off to the loo, trying to look ladylike but looking more like "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". I started to mutter to myself 'The Bells, The Bells!' Nothing seemed to be broken and the alcohol had kicked in to lessen the pain, but I know I'll feel it tomorrow.

I arrived back at the table a little more collected. A large hand grabbed my arm and a deep velvet voice drawled into my ear. "Would you care to dance?" I looked up into the bluest pair of eyes I had ever seen and started to say something witty but it just came out as gibberish. It's very hard to talk with your tongue lolling out the side of your mouth.

And so we danced, I use the term loosely, if he'd held me any closer I would have been behind him. He spoke as we moved and breathed heavily into my ear.

"You took a hell of a fall back there" he said "did you hurt yourself? You know I could take a look".

Little did I know, in civilian life he had worked as a vet with livestock. I suppose I was lucky he didn't have a lethal injection with him or I might have been a goner.
Of course in my drunken stupor I thought he meant he'd watch while I took the fall again. I imagined a row of men with marking cards holding up 5.8 5.9 5.7 and wondered what marks the Russian judge would award. As I went to playfully slap his face he ducked and I spun round.

This time I landed flat on my back, as I fell I kicked the legs out from under my would-be Knight in shining armour. I watched in slow motion as his arms and legs thrashed the air like a duck taking off and felt every bone in my body groan as he landed on top of me. I began to laugh uncontrollably. Tears rolling down my cheeks, yet again and all I could do was lie there and wonder. Was I now in Maddie's Olympics?

The poor man on top of me was dazed. (Yeah, these days I've got to 'stun em'.) He slowly rose to his feet and gently helped me to mine. He then found a seat and made me sit down, muttering something about being safer for all if I was seated. That was the last I saw of him.

The club was starting to close and our normal after club activity was to eat. Being as there were, at the last count, fifty ravenous women we thought that no restaurant would let us in at 2 in the morning. The decision was made, so it was off to the local burger van. I'm not sure if it was the concussion kicking in or if I had double vision, but the mob that was heading down the road was huge. They were all singing, shouting and abusing any sailors they found huddling in doorways along the way.

Tony stood in his little burger van unaware that his life would soon change. He cooked a burger for the taxi driver in front of him and looked around. A couple of sailors were eating their burgers over to one side and a group of students were eating theirs on the other.

In the distance he could hear a noise. 'Oh no' he thought 'that sounds like thunder' and there is nothing like a storm to drive away trade. He hadn't been busy tonight the rush had come and gone, he hoped to catch a few customers when the clubs kicked out.

His thoughts were broken when he looked at the sailors in the corner. They had a strange look of fear on their faces, mouthing things like 'OH MY GOD' and 'RUN FOR IT'.

His eyes then moved to the road in front of him, they widened, he gulped. The mob looked as though it was heading his way and they were moving at speed. He needed help. He called to Alfredo who was having a cigarette break, and had been, for the last three hours. Now, Alfredo had two speeds, dead slow and stop, he hauled himself up and into the van. Tony pointed to the approaching throng, Alfredo was rooted to the spot, and his mouth hung open. Tony started to work, his arms going like a windmill, he thrust a bottle of tomato sauce at Alfredo and shouted 'hurry, open that, come on lad do something!'

Alfredo had lost his strength, he began to whimper "We're all going to die." The taxi driver and the students had all vanished, but the two sailors were caught in the corner. Their eyes darting from side to side trying to find an escape route. Too late.

Like a tidal wave the mob hit the burger stand, surrounding it and all therein. Someone had tried to organize the women into an orderly queue and take orders for food but a ketchup and mustard fight broke out and the scene was reminiscent of a massacre. The first to be hit by a great glob of tomato ketchup was the big guy in the van, poor soul had tried to stop the ladies playing with the condiments. He stood there with red sauce dripping off the end of his nose, while grown women dodged around him using him as a shield. After about a minute he looked like an explosion in a paint factory, although he did look as though he was actually enjoying himself. The sailors in the corner were drowning as the sea of women engulfed them, but they had smiles on their faces as they came up for the third time! The guy who was cooking the food had given up trying to bring order to the chaos and went into over-drive to feed the hungry women. Soon the food was ready and silence reigned, except for the lip smacking and licking of fingers. The burgers were good and soon the girls were fed, what to do now was the question. My little house wouldn't hold this many people, but judging by the mood, this party would not be ending any time soon.

Luckily, one of the women, Jill, who lived nearby offered to continue the merriment at her house, with an open invitation to all. By now a row of cabs had formed, circling like vultures and hoping for some business. As we started to leave the burger van I could see a dozen pairs of eyes follow us, when they realized that we were walking, they started to disperse. I looked back at the burger van that was now empty, the poor chef was laid out on the pavement, with the big guy waving a newspaper like a fan over him. I'll bet they haven't worked like that in years.

It didn't take long to get to Jill's house, which was a beautiful detached house facing the harbour. As I entered the front door I was taken aback with the elegance of the hallway. A gigantic crystal chandelier dominated the centre of the hall, lighting up every corner and sending tiny little rainbows everywhere. People filled the space, so I couldn't tell how big the hall was, but I think it was bigger than my front room. Jill was busy organizing a clean-up crew, to sort out the splodges of burger toppings on various bits of clothing. My friend Beth had mustard in her hair, so Jill dispatched her to the upstairs bathroom to wash her hair. The queue for stain removal wound its way into the kitchen, but most of the women had gone though to the conservatory.

Jill's husband Malcolm, who was very high up in the Navy, was still awake. He had been entertaining all the Captains and high ranking Officers from the visiting foreign navies. They had been having an informal get-together and were all very drunk. When I got out to the conservatory, the scene was reminiscent of bawdy house with wall-to-wall women. A big leering, bearded mariner lurched towards me, I side-stepped and he landed on the poor girl behind me. She squealed in surprise and he cursed in a foreign language that I thought was German, but later learned was Dutch. He was like a big teddy bear with a huge bushy beard, and a great big belly. Most of the men were sitting open mouthed not quite knowing what to think or do, but the Dutch Captain was in full swing, throwing his arms around all the women he could.

He had a laugh that would have 'shivered' any timbers and hands like bunches of bananas, but a sweeter nature you couldn't hope to meet.

Over on a big settee was an Officer who had passed out, due to all the ‘fall down water' he had consumed. I watched as his blurry eyes opened and he uttered his first words. "Where am I? Am I dead? Is this heaven?" A large lady called Ruby pulled his weary head to her ample bosom and rocked him like a baby. I've never seen a grin spread across a face so quickly, bless him, he blushed the deepest crimson, I suppose you could say he was 'RUBY RED'!!

The party got into full swing, complete with thumping music and then Malcolm broke out the home-made wine and beer. Boy, that stuff could take the enamel off the front of your teeth and melt your fillings, but it really tasted good. I knew that I could not drink a lot of it, because it makes me want to strip off and dance naked in the garden and I don't hate the world that much.

The naked dancing episode happened many years ago, when my boobs pointed north and my birthday suit didn't look like it needed ironing. It took a long time for my friends to forget about this incident, because my knickers were stuck on a branch of a tall tree in a neighbour's garden, for months afterwards. How they got there was a mystery. With my best frillies waving about like a flag, the ribbing I got was merciless, photographs were taken and it was documented for historical purposes. Both sets of my cheeks were red!!! There was another time I drank too much home-made wine, suffice to say, after I landed on our fake Christmas tree it was never the same again and it still leans to the left. I was picking the tree decorations out of my important little places for weeks afterwards!!

Back to the party, and by now everyone was having a good time, dancing and playing drunken games. I was tempted to join in the 'pass the fruit without using your hands game' and various games with balloons, but I just watched and laughed with the rest. It is amazing how many games you can play with a few choice pieces of fruit and a couple of balloons!! Of course the booze helped the contestants 'loosen up' and shake off any inhibitions. The bride-to-be, Janet was in the middle of all this fun and merriment when the big Dutch Captain tried to pass an apple from between his knees to her. She hadn't realized that he had put a large banana in his flies, and as she bent down to retrieve the apple with her chin she came face-to-face with the said banana. Her reaction and surprise catapulted her backwards into the garden where she collided with a large prickly bush. After she was pulled out, her face covered in scratches, she decided that the sidelines were the best place. After all she was getting married in a week, and she didn't want her wedding photo's to look like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

I looked at my watch about 5am and marvelled at the energy that this bunch could muster. By now two teams had been picked and a large rope found and they were now in the midst of a tug-of-war match. I left the garden and wandered into the kitchen where a small army were preparing a full English breakfast, complete with kippers. I couldn't believe my eyes. At sometime during the party Malcolm had pulled rank and got half a dozen ratings and a truck load of grub delivered to the house. Suddenly I found myself with a knife in one hand and a bag of mushrooms in the other, I had been promoted to Chief mushroom slicer.

I took my promotion seriously, found a place in the kitchen and got to work. I was working alongside a chap who was mixing eggs for scrambling and on the other side I had another guy grilling bacon, talk about a rose between two thorns. As we worked we talked and I found out that the guy with the bacon was an Admiral and the fellow with the eggs was Captain of the big American aircraft carrier. Maybe it was more like a thorn between two roses.

Breakfast was served in the conservatory and soon everyone was full. The mood was buoyant, it was as if all these people had been friends for years. Banter flowed back and forth with some bright spark telling a joke, which started an avalanche of joke telling. Within ten minutes we were all holding our sides and wiping the tears from our eyes. One after another quips hit the air from every angle but I couldn't remember one joke. As I listened to yet another funny story, I racked my brain trying to recall something, anything that was remotely funny. The only thing I could come up with was lame. 'What do you call a cow that eats grass?' A lawn mooer!! Not exactly a side splitter but I knew that deep in my memory were some really good jokes. Damn my age, maybe I was getting senile but I knew that tomorrow, when I was alone, the jokes would come flooding back.

As dawn had come and gone and the sun was getting high in the sky people were starting to leave.  I had to admit that going home in full ‘going out gear' in the light of day was something I hadn't done for years and it felt great.  Somehow the early morning seems so much better when you haven't had any sleep, I was wide awake now, but I knew that I would have to get some sleep today as the party is continuing tonight and I may be forty two but I have proved that I can keep up with the best of them!! 

We are all invited to attend a formal party on board the aircraft carrier and then onto Jill and Malcolm's house for some more fun and games.  I had best break out the cucumber for my eyes and slap on a face pack cos right now I look like a saggy sofa.  Oh god, what am I going to wear I thought as I opened my front door.

I bypassed the front room, I couldn't deal with that mess right now and went straight to my wardrobe.  As if by magic my eyes fell on the long black evening gown I had bought five years ago for a formal ‘do' that I never attended.  It was still wrapped in plastic with all the tags on but would it fit?  Two minutes later I stood in front of the mirror and decided that this was the perfect dress for the occasion.  I hadn't felt this excited about a night out in years and as I hung my dress up for the evening's festivities I looked in the mirror.  The woman staring back at me was twenty years younger, it's amazing how you drop into middle age and forget how to enjoy yourself. 

Tonight though I am going to party till I drop or they have to call out the riot police!!