It's a party - you are all very welcome

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It's a party - you are all very welcome

As the write the next line story went so well I thought that this week we could have a party. Just join in as and when you can.

Now, the twiglets are in their bowl, the rum punch is brewing and the things on a stick are still on their sticks. It's that nervous moment when you wonder if anyone is going to arrive at the ABC house.

There's a ring on the doorbell.

Welcome, you must be...

Freezing. Take those wet clothes off at once. And good gracious me, what is that...thing on your head?
Ahem, it's Galliano luv, and I will not take these clothes off, they're IM-PER-ATOR's latest: I'm Jasmin Farquhar, you may have seen me on I'm a Celebrity Cook My Underpants with Me... no... you cannot be serious!
You are very welcome Jasmin - do help yourself to something to drink. Why - look who's coming up the path. I do believe it's....
“Hello everybody, and a Happy nearly Easter to you all… err, I thought this was a fancy dress party?” said the wizard.
I'm sorry I have been away from the forum for a while. Dissertations, work, conferences and leaky ceilings have been distracting me. I have also been playing on a few serious economic forums but need a little bit of light-hearted banter. I hope all is well here. jude

 

oh Jude, that just won't do.
"Well I'm in Fancy dress. Not everybody can wear Galliano, you know....By the way darling peach really is not your colour." Mwah, mwah. "Tony, where's the mojito?"
"Wonderful fancy dress! What exactly are you supposed to be? And who do you suppose that odd man over there is - the one with the tray of Ferrero Rochers in one hand? If you ask me, i don't think he's very steady on his feet. Perhaps he can tell us where the drinks are..."

 

He must be the ambassador - and he's got a huge jug of mojitos as well. 'Hey, dude, bring that stuff over here!'
Brrrring! "Kenneth, will you answer the bloody door," his wife cried out. "I'm just watering down the drinks." At the door stood two men. One stepped forward and said in a breezy manner, "Ooooh, Mr 'Orne. How bona to varda your dolly old eek. I'm Jules and this is my friend, Sandy."

Helvigo Jenkins

"I'm sorry I think you must have the wrong house. There's no-one called Mr Orne living here." Kenneth stood awkwardly at the door, uncertain whether it was impolite to shut the door in their face or not.
"Well, I suppose you'd better come in anyway," he said, aware that it was still bucketing it down outside. "But...um..." His eyes rested upon a strange electronic device protruding from Sandy's trenchcoat pocket; Sandy hurriedly placed a hand over the opening, concealing the object from view. An icy chill gripped Kenneth's heart. Was the party about to take a more sinister turn?
It was a device of his own invention, an electric harmonica. He was proud of that invention, and everyone at the party knew it. Unfortunately, they also knew that it had the sound of a cat being run over by a rail car that wasn't allowed to die. He took it out to play it for everyone at the party, when...

 

Hope I'm not late. Anyway I've brought a bag full of Laddoos and Gulab Jamuns. Smack your lips...those who don't like sweets something Namkeen (salted snacks)...next time... Come on lets enjoy...

 

The party seemed to have sunk into a dirge of unfunny one-liners, jilted middle-aged men and a suspiciously empty drinks table. Kenneth, feeling a migraine coming on, had pinched the bridge of his nose and confiscated the harmonica, much to its inventor's distress. But what was that sound coming from the stairwell?
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