Halloween

Last year I went as a French maid.  I probably would've recycled the costume and worn it again this year, only I foolishly left it at my ex's house and I don't think it's really cricket to turn up at the door enquiring after one's maid outfit.

So I have managed to cobble something together, and while it isn't perfect it is at least a fuck sight better than the year I went as a paedophile and had to walk around all night with my shirt poking out of my undone flies.  Strangely enough, that is not one of the Halloweens I recall with pleasure.

Apparently Heaven has introduced a breathalyser.  That is Heaven, the club in London, and not the religious ideal of an afterlife, though perhaps that heaven should also introduce a breathalyser to keep out the riffraff.  But for now, it remains the club.

If there's anything that just shits on Halloween, it's a breathalyser at the doorway.

Happy Halloween.

I have always wanted to go as a plague doctor, but the costume so far eludes me.