Went to a Murder Mystery party at the Monkeyperson house on Saturday night. It was a lot of fun, particularly because I got to play a world famous journalist and also wear a blonde wig. I think I like the blonde look, you know. I’m seriously considering it. “I felt like a girl!” I exclaimed in wonder to a friend today as I was describing it.
I went to collect Red, who emerged from his mother’s house as an East End gangster, complete with top hat and revolver. “Alright, dahlin’?” he drawled as he got into the car, “Champagne Charlie’s the name.” I nodded in the manner of one who is completely accustomed to suave gangsters getting into her car. “Kitty Killer,” I said snootily. I was introducing myself rather than accusing him of caticide, but he did look momentarily confused. The moment was ruined anyway by Ma coming to the door to wave goodbye to her wee son. The moment she caught sight of me she began to laugh so heartily that she couldn’t even speak, and eventually I gave up and just drove away, leaving her doubled over at the end of her garden path. I will admit that the scarlet lipstick and the beret were extremely Un-Me, never mind the golden curls.
Neither Red nor I spoke for a few moments, Ma’s laughter still ringing in our ears as we left the estate. “Hails,” he said eventually, gazing at me in wonder, “you look…”
There was a short pause as he searched desperately for the words. “Like a hooker?” I suggested. “Yes!” he agreed, looking relieved. “Exactly like a hooker!”
Well… it was about time for a change of image, I suppose.