A Student's Life 11 (extra)
April has been a month of birthdays at Bellclose Road, with both David and Tom celebrating their coming into the world in various forms of drunkenness and Tom-foolery (see what I did there!) Technically of course, their birthdays are two weeks apart but due to some ‘miscalculation' on David's part (and if we're honest, some plain stupidity), he managed to book his 21st birthday party on the day of Tom's own party. In David's defence, he has only known Tom for something like 21 years so it was quite fortunate that I was on hand to point out to him that Tom would surely have his birthday celebrations that same weekend being as it was... his birthday and everything. Many phone-calls and a good number of booked halls later (don't ask) and the problem was finally rectified and invites sent out.
Now to find the D.J.
You may have noticed a growing trend here in this article, but a certain Mr. David is not the world's greatest organiser - far from it in fact - so it came as something of a surprise at the time to learn that he had organised a D.J. for his birthday with very little in the way of difficulty and had even forwarded playlist ideas and so on way in advance of the main event. David being David I was sure he must have missed something obvious like perhaps paying the man in advance, but in the weeks leading up to the big day everything seemed to be fine and dandy so I let him get on with it and his fancy dress preparations.
I forgot to mention the party was fancy-dress. I hate fancy dress. Anyone who happens to like fancy dress perhaps has not been to a fancy dress party with Tom. If they had they would probably change their minds on the subject pretty swiftly. You see if Tom's last birthday was anything to go by with his eight solid hours of bad Italian (he went as Luigi) David's birthday was going to be one very long evening. To make matters worse I already knew he was going as Dracula and had been working on his ‘vampire' in front of a mirror in his spare time. He even decided he was going to try and teach me Dutch for my own role as a cross between Van Helsing, Poirot and Charlie Chaplin (no comment). Needless to say, I did not stay in character for very long.
So anyway, the big day was soon upon us and the three of us (Maximus, Dracula and Van Helsing - David wasn't at home) departed for sunny Twickenham picking up Spock and Steve Irwin on the way. Unfortunately Maximus clearly brought the wrong kind of sandals with him and had to hobble a good portion of the way in very un-gladiator fashion as cars honked and one middle-aged drunk lady even slapped him on his Gluteus Maximus. To be honest I'm not sure Russell Crowe would have presented himself so readily for attack from drunkards while readjusting his footwear. The evening started as it was destined to go on.
Remember I told you about my D.J. reservations? We arrived at 8:05 to find that not only had David only just got there (he was supposed to be there from 6:00) but he had forgotten to confirm the booking with the D.J. so the D.J. hadn't come and we were stuck with the music channels for a good hour or so while small children from the Snoddy clan ran around shouting and screaming. It was at this point Maximus and Poirot (I felt like Poirot at this moment in time) started on some seriously heavy drinking to liven things up a bit. Dracula, as predicted, was already at this early stage flitting about the hall trying to suck the blood of any particular lady who took his fancy and even that of Mr Dick Turpin whose birthday it apparently was. I must say David certainly felt like one very big Turpin for a good while until the D.J. finally turned up and S Club 7 started blaring out loudly much to Charlie Chaplin's approval.
So by about 9:30 the night was finally begun, and knowing as we did that it was destined to end at 12:00 Maximus led the troops in inspirational manner at the bar while Charlie and a very jaundiced looking Bruce Lee started off a very large conga line and participated in a rousing version of the Macarena. It may have started late and in typical David fashion, but good times were had by all; the climax naturally being the mass air-guitaring to The Final Countdown near the end. By this point of course Bruce Lee had successfully destroyed Dick Turpin with a rapid succession of shots that went straight to the head and caused an instant K.O. to the former highwayman. Maximus wasn't looking too well either. In fairness it was probably the sandals.
All that was left now in this most memorable of nights was the chariot journey home for Maximus and partner-in-crime Charlie. Unfortunately the charioteer was unable to interpret the readings from his star-powered magical box and so while Maximus slept soundly in the back, Charlie was left wondering if they would even get home while the charioteer swore profusely and hurtled us down the M4 towards Slough. It was fairly typical of our night then that our chariot took twice as long to get us home than it should have and in the process Maximus lost his phone. He may have lost his phone, but at least he still had his self-respect! Oh wait...