With all the political correctness nowadays no-one holds a top Christmas party anymore.
No-one wants to offend anyone anymore and things have got a little boring.
Things were so lovely in days gone by. I loved the Christmas party. The banter, the way every thought I was an amazing dude and above all it was a night out.
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My wife would always ask me where I was going and always get the same reply - Party'.
Can I come?'
Women not allowed..'
Why not?'
Look do you want me lose my job? Now, stop talking rubbish and iron my shirt.'
The only issue some people had was the fact I didn't drink.
Although that was never a problem for my friend. He loved to drink. It wasn't about fitting in - he just liked to get a little tipsy every now and then.
And the Christmas party was a great excuse to show everyone how British' he was. Funnily enough most people were like me and thought I was more British than him.
However, his antics would always cause people to ask me the million dollar question.
"So how come Jay drinks and you don't?' Is he a different kind of Muslim than you?'
Hmmm...I didn't know what to say.
It was one extreme or the other. I sometimes got stuck with the guilt-tripper. Man he would make my hell.
He would come to the party all dressed-up and looked forward to it more than I did but then proceeded to moan all-night about how bad it was that he was there.
"Hey, I didn't tell you to come did I?'
"Yes you did..you said you wanted some company in the Orange juice-only section." He always replied. I couldn't win.
These days the Christmas party is all about pleasing everyone. They all ask me if I would like Vegetarian food...whether we should have bacon butties within a five mile radius of the party and if Slade should really sing It's Christmas'.
Nowdays the only fun I ever get is when we go for a Christmas pub lunch. It knocked me for six at first.
I was used to either paying for the whole lot or not paying at all. But whenever I went with work lot' we would have to split everything equally.
One bloke even bought a calculator with him.
Once at a pub lunch I got screwed proper. Everyone had three pints each but I made my cola last a full three hour and twenty-two minutes. However, when it came to paying the bill one sly cow split everything eight ways.
Next time...I was ready. I ordered seven colas and four orange juices.
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