For a ‘do’ this New Years Eve I self crafted a costume made from the remnants of pop stars past…I churned myself into Nirvana’s lead person Kurt Cobain. I couldn’t quite manage the slightly smack addled, under nourished look having placed several stone on my person over the Christmas bits. The result was more a physiological amalgam of Curtis Steiger and Rod Steiger rather than Mr Cobain. ‘Are you Andrew Ridgeley’? I was asked by one patron of the said party. ‘Nope…I’m Burt Cocaine from Nahvanna’ I slurred out from a ‘Polish vodka with a blade of grass in it for some reason’ ridden tongue… I then sat down with a lady who resembled Roy Kinnear in a Barry Gibb wig wondering if I should finish off the giant Onion Bhaji I’d started several hours ago. I haven't, as yet, met anybody in the year of 2008 who was overblown with joyfulness over the Christmas celebrations. It appears that each year near the end of decembershire a whole host of people give themselves over to the 'porridge' experience. Force fed enjoyment tablets down a 'Foie tube'...a few rows and Morrison's whiskey later it's time to headbut walnuts till gone midnight. I'm thinking cheap log cabin/cottage/tent/large sized kinder egg in the lakes with the kids next year. Good morning 2008…mind if I park up beside you? Peter Costaferrata.
