Dinner Party [Party is never to be used as a verb or i will kill your filthy whoreface)
I recently threw possibly the best dinner party ( 21 person Tocillian Chrismas Dinner excluded), since Lucrezia Borgia had her famous 'Ooops, we're out of cyanide' Banquet in 1537.
Growing from a mere bored speculation over a messaging program into a full half day event in some cases; this roast was epitomy of shabby student style.
Bottle upon bottle of wine was consumed; ranging from posh vino handpicked by an our out-sourced wine conniseur, to chemically recovered vineagar-to-be that caused at least one case of mass stomach heavage.
The tiny and ill prepared student kitchen (not even the size a roots bedroom/cell) issued forth enough fooditems to overfill the table and bring the wood to its straining groaning load capacity. Food included 1 Plump [BRITISH] Hen roasted, handcrafted yorkshires, boiled carrots, streamed sprouts, kilted sausages, both stuffing and gravy created from first principles (Up Yours!: Paxo, Bisto, and James Hughes), oven roasted parsnips and potatos, brocolli in a traditional cheese sauce, mashed potato and the aforementioned oodles of wine.
Lit sexily by and ecclectic mix of ultra modern fibre optics and soft candlelight it was truely a feast to behold aswell as to consume.
I wish all of you could have been invited to share in this pure gourmet cuisine….
Just for the look on your faces when you got to the door and i told you to sod off and eat cat like all the other proles! Ha!
Victory is mine!