All Hail All Hallows

By itchingmyknee

It struck me as I got on the tube last night that Halloween is one of the few times a year when the ghoul you cop off with in a club is guaranteed to look better in the morning. The crowds of howling extras from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” crowded the streets and tried to trick-or-treat eachother for fags and kisses.

I was trying to get to some strange party in Shoreditch. I had my hair in a giant bird’s nest, gruesome scars all over my body and the obligatory trickle of blood out of the corner of my mouth. And that was before I put my make up on. This is the true beauty of being a Londoner, even dressed up like a loon, stumbling on your fake cobwebs, no one bats an eyelid.
The evening started off swimmingly. It was a rare night out with my work colleagues and they came home with me and sat in my childlike room while my mother fed us ham sandwiches and champagne. The Online guy was wearing my eyeliner, my boss was wearing my mini and boots, and dear Suzie (names have been changed to protect the innocent) was wearing my risqué red corset and virtue-redeeming slip. How strange and surreal to have two world’s collide so suddenly, as all the pictures and postcards stuck around my walls were scrutinised by fresh eyes, who had never seen the acid blonde hair and rocker threads of my youth… Only a few years ago really.

As we were leaving, we were solemnly presented with a single boiled sweet each by my dear ma, and sent off into the world. The club was screening an Ed Wood film. “Orgy of the Dead”, if you must know. But I confess I was glad for the good conversation and ghostly tales of my comrades. I like boobs about as much as the next person, but old Woody made the gyrating 60’s sirens seem routine. The 20th successive “zombie” girl in tiny panties wiggled at the camera and in her soulless dark eyes, I saw only boredom and a vague sense of the ridiculous. For a woman with her clothes off, that is truly horrific.

halloween
orgy
Ed Wood