Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 12^th Feb 2006

Revenge is a dish best served cold, or so they say. Personally I’d rather have my revenge served hot, with a side order of roast potatoes, several Yorkshire puddings and lashings of hot onion gravy.

Whatever my temperature preferences I recently found myself in a position to exact some revenge on my elder brother. You may remember he ‘set me up’ at a murder mystery night last year. I was assigned the character ‘Countess Bogoff’ and was required to attend this soiree in full evening dress, and when I say dress, I don’t mean black tie, I mean a feckin dress. Despite the fact I looked absolutely radiant in my black sequined ball gown and was the belle of the ball I felt somewhat resentful that I was forced to cross dress and quietly vowed to get my own back.

Now I’m starting to believe in karma because less than a year on and that self same elder brother asked me (on the basis of writing this every week would you believe) if I would like to ‘write’ a murder mystery night for him and his friends. ‘Why of course’ I replied ‘Mhuhaha Mhuhahah MHUHAHAHAA!’ Possibly I should have left the manic laughter till after he’d left the room.

I thought a wedding would make a suitable theme for the mystery and a couple of weeks before the event I sent out everyones ‘characters’ so they could sort out costumes etc. It wasn’t long before I received a rather irate phone call from my elder brother. ‘A Bride!’, ‘yes’, ‘you’ve made me a bride!’, ‘no, no, no’ I soothed ‘I’ve made you the Bride, is there a problem?’. Apparently there was.

The rest of the guests were reasonably happy with their parts although I have to confess my brother wasn’t the only person forced to cross the gender barrier. If you were an observant person you would probably notice they were the people that laughed most heartily at yours truly in his sparkly frock last time. What goes around comes around I always say. I had a couple of surprises planned for ‘on the night’ as well. I was going to play my Joker card after the second act.

It wasn’t long till the big day came around. I was getting quite excited. The bride was understandably apprehensive as we helped her into her dress ‘For fuuucksaaaake min it’ll never fit’, ‘should have cut doon on the pies then shouldn’t ye son’ I grunted as we attempted to zip up the back of his frock ‘ye should have got a bigger one’ he wailed

’Twenty eight was the biggest they had’ I replied, wrestling with the zip ‘just another wee … gnnfff’ with a sudden jolt the zip snapped shut and the toggle came off in my hand ‘Is that it’, ‘aye all done’ I replied, staring wide eyed at the small piece of metal in my hand ‘thank Christ for that, I’ll be glad to get out of this at the end of the night, this frock is killing me’. I watched him mince out of the room and then quietly dropped the toggle behind the sofa.

I had to get round to the venue and sort out a few bits and bobs so I left the bride to be doing her hair. ‘Dear God what have I created’ I mumbled. ‘She’ was quite the catch. There are not many brides that can boast as hairy a cleavage I’d wager. It was quite disturbing, like looking down the back of a pair of builders jeans. I had suggested he might shave for the wedding but that proposal had been vetoed along with the false eyelashes. No commitment that’s the problem.

I got round to the venue and found the chefs looking rather flushed. Behind them was a mound of several hundred poppodums. Around twenty pans of differing shapes and sizes were spread on the counters and floor. The aroma was fantastic. ‘Alright Mogs, eeeh you do know there are only 26 of us?’, ‘Aye bonny lad but yer a hungry lot’ he replied in his thick Geordie accent. My gaze fell on the fifty-kilogram sack of basmati rice ‘Uuuum’. Some crunching footfalls caught my attention and I gazed upwards to see Jackie scaling ‘Mount Pakora’ and depositing another portion onto the summit cairn. ‘Uuuum right I’ll leave you to it then’.

The food seemed to be in hand and the host and hostess had done us proud with the table settings. Twenty-six is a big ask and I was particularly impressed with the way the tables snaked their way out of the kitchen, through the dining room, into the lounge and finally terminating in the shed. Lets just hope it’s not a windy night for the four people in the carport.

Guests were arriving thick and fast. I was absolutely gob smacked at the costumes, everyone had made a big effort and the house was bustling with all the various characters. Special mentions need to go to ‘Maisy’ in his fairy outfit, ‘Kevin’ the blue nose teddy boy (don’t actually remember writing that one) and ‘Dave’ the grey man Vincent. Top quality, although I did think I was tripping at one point. Things that start in yer heid should probably remain there.

It wasn’t long before nearly everyone was present. My good friend Kenny had been cast in the role of the Groom and was waiting rather impatiently to see who was playing his ‘gorgeous’ bride. I shall never forget the look on his face as my hirsute brother lumbered through the front door, his face painted like aunt Sally and lipstick smeared liberally over his top lip and five ‘o’clock shadow. ‘Quite the catch isn’t she’ I said nudging Kenny jovially in the ribs.

The first act went rather well if I do say so myself. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, well except Kenny who was looking daggers and had the demeanour of a man chewing a wasp. The second act and the ‘Wedding’ itself went nicely although the happy couple refused to comply with the scripted French kiss despite the guests’ encouragement. As the end of the second act approached I signalled to three strong friends and we approached the Groom.

‘Good news Kenny we’ve found another bride!’ His eyes lit up and he breathed a sigh of relief ‘Thank fuck for that, nae offence but yer brother is a minger-’ I cut him off in mid-sentence ‘aye but there’s also a bit of bad news’ I continued with an evil glint in my eye ‘ye see it’s a gay wedding, and you’re the other bride’, ‘recognise this dress?’ I enquired, holding up the sparkly black number I had been wearing the year before and Kenny had found sooooo funny ‘Nha ha ha ha’

I was wrong ye know, it is best served cold …. Mhuhaha MHUHAHAHAA .. to fade

Doei