The Night Really Belonged To Bee (part two)

Apologies for the delay in writing and posting this, but Eldest Daughter and Captain Oz left to go back to Australia on Thursday evening. After taking them to Heathrow I spent ages playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook, beating the crap out of my friends to get to the top of the leader board in an attempt to take my mind off things I needed a few days to get over feeling quite blue.

So to quickly recap, there was I, at Bob the Builder’s party, standing at the bar, probably with a rabbit-trapped-in-headlights look on my face, being chatted up(?) by Kevin the Hand Holder, but then rescued by Bee.

After she dragged me to the dance floor and we were bopping away, Kindred Spirit joined us.

Bee (gleefully): Guess what? Bub pulled!

KS (stopping dead on the dance floor): What? Who? Where is he? Point him out, NOW!

Bee: See the bloke at the bar with the checked shirt on? The one looking at Bub? Him.

KS: I don’t know who he is… hang on.

With that, she grabbed her husband, Bob the Builder, and asked him if he knew Kevin the Hand Holder. Bob the Builder, being three sheets to the wind (or, to use his own words, ‘I’m bollocksed’), made his way to the bar. Bee and I were still dancing when Kindred Spirit suddenly put both her hands up to her face and told us to look at the bar.

Bob the Builder had taken it upon himself to launch Operation Protect and Defend, against which Kevin the Hand Holder didn’t stand a chance. Don’t worry, there was no violence and I have no idea what was said, but knowing Bob the Builder it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Poor Kevin.

Not only did he luck out as far as I was concerned, he also got something of an ear bashing. He left the pub.

Oops.

As the evening wore on, I swear if I’d looked at Bee’s eyes closely enough, I’d have seen the red wine level sloshing about in them. The more she drank, the more outrageous she got.

While we were boogie-ing (boogieing? boogying? ach, whatever) away, she spotted a woman dancing in quite a provocative way in an attempt to entice her husband, Bob the Builder’s brother, Older Brother, who was sitting down, to join her. He wasn’t having any of it.

Bee found this hilarious and I must admit it was funny to watch. Then Bee decided to do her own bit of provocative dancing. I think the thought process behind it was to show the woman exactly what it should look like. All I will say is that after shimmying up behind me, I thought it’s a good job I’ve known Bee for quite a few years and know that she’s very happily married. Or I’d be a bit concerned.

Older Brother's wife sat down next to him and we carried on dancing, separately by now I hasten to add. As I turned round, I saw her wriggling on her chair, stroking his leg (argh, my eyes!), kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear. I started laughing as Bee yelled out, “Get a room!” Under the pretext of getting her drink, which was on the table behind them, she marched over and started talking to them.

When Bee came back to the dance floor, I asked her what she said to them. “I said, ‘For fuck sake Older Brother, get up and dance with your wife.’ And it turns out they are married… just not to each other.”

Snort.

Bee’s command worked though, because Older Brother and the Woman Who’s Not His Wife got up on the dance floor, and were getting on down (again, my eyes!). Bee was satisfied though that she’d made it happen.

Chatting to Kindred Spirit at the bar a bit later, we were joined by a friend of Bob the Builder’s, John, who informed us he was pleasantly ticking over thanks to his consumption of beer. He asked if I was enjoying the party and I told him I was, even though I wasn’t drinking. He looked a bit surprised and thought I meant I’d had nothing to drink at all. I put him straight and said my drinks were non-alcoholic, as I was driving later.

Back on the dance floor, which was heaving thanks to an excellent DJ, Bee and I were losing ourselves in more dancing when John sidled over, grabbed my hand and said, “I do like a girl who knows how to enjoy herself without having to drink.”

“Grab yer bag, you’ve pulled again,” breathed Bee in my ear.

Ah shit.

What did I do? I laughed and carried on dancing. Luckily, John kept a respectful distance, while Bee was cackling away to herself.

An hour or so later I decided it was time for me to leave – it was late and I had a forty minute drive home. I got my coat, said my goodbyes to various people, then looked for Bob the Builder - Bee found him talking to the Woman Who’s Not Older Brother’s Wife.

I tried getting Bob the Builder’s attention to say goodbye, but the Woman Who’s Not Older Brother’s Wife was, well, drunkenly draped all over him, for want of a better way to put it.

Bee then loudly and with much incredulity uttered the line that absolutely made my night; one that had me laughing so hard I had to walk away and brings me to the end of my tale:

“Fuck me, how many brothers does she want?!”