The Woodwind Party

The party last week was pretty sophisticated compared to most of our shindigs. Not a single drop of blood fell from anybody's head the whole night although a couple of people may have suffered some adverse effects from the buns I made. The saxophone was brought out along with the claro to see if we had any potential jazz musicians amongst us. I think the general consensus was that we didn't. The Milky Bar Kid told Nelly he'd never been to a woodwind party before slyly whispering to Dirt Bird It's like at special school when they get the instruments out to play. Not very P.C. Milky Bar Boy but funny all the same.

Mrs. Banjo agreed that the jazz workshop session was pretty bad but where was Mr. Banjo to serenade us? Hovering over the sink looking a greener shade of pale. Actually, music was a bit of an issue the whole night. Ploppy Pants was playing bouncer at the stereo and kept switching off my music to put on his old-man-diddly-dee music. I had to set Dirt Bird on him but he couldn't hear her over the stereo.

But that was all last weekend and I can't remember too much anymore other than the highlight of my week was meeting someone called Rusty purely for the fact I think that Rusty is a great name to say. I have also discovered that using the word 'horrendous' to describe a 50 year-old chiropodist is not a good idea as he is likely to threaten you with the broomstick he's holding. I guess I just have that effect on people.