Crackerwax

The most recent of my woeful party adventures occurred about a year ago, at a house party organised by someone I hardly knew. He was a generous chap so unless you were a convicted serial killer, you got an invite.

My excitement at being invited to a party lead to my hasty – and in hindsight, rash – offer to wear a kilt.

Now, I love my kilts and I’ll wear them at the drop of a hat, everyone knows this. However women – for some crazy unknown reason – go a bit funny when they see a man in a kilt. I’ve experienced this before many, many times. I’ve gotten used to it.

You know the sort of thing, questions about what’s underneath it – which for the record is nothing – and such. Although I have often wondered what would happen to me if I approached a girl at a party, complimented her on her dress and then followed it up by asking if she was wearing any knickers.

I can’t imagine it would be a positive outcome. (more…)