The work’s Christmas do

Ho! Ho! Ho! dress like a hoe.


We all have to attend a works Christmas party, because we all work and we all celebrate Christmas. Well not all of us work, or celebrate Christmas, but we should all try to attend one somewhere regardless.

I have a lostitgirl Christmas party, but it’s only three of us so we just started a What’s App group and sent cracker jokes to each other on there. No way I was hiring out a venue or going out for a nut roast. Eugh.

But I also dabble in another type of work that enables me to attend a rather large work Christmas party.

The problem was that after the O’Reilly’s finally finished trashing my house and room while I was in Dubai, I had so much to do in the run up to it. Like trying to put my house back together.

So when it came round to the day of the party, I had undergone exactly zero preparations. I have a tan, so that’s fine. And that was the only good thing about me.

This meant I had to just dress fully slut, enabling my tan to do the talking and take the emphasis away from my hair, face, lack of working out recently etc…

I chucked on a white dress, because I knew nobody else would do winter white. I was right. And I did my hair up because I just don’t have the time these days. I looked OK.

We fly balloons on this fuel called love…

On the way in there was many massive balloons, like huge ones. Basically if you were skinny enough you could attach a little wicker basket and pop off round the world for a few days.


I was dj’ing that evening. I kicked it off and only had 45 minutes. I started with a completely empty room (that’s usually how it ends – ed). I HAD to get some people dancing.

Here’s some rules for dj’ing a works Christmas party, it is a must you remember that it is a eclectic event spanning many ages. Remember that at all times, do not allow people to say:

“The only person that likes this song is the dj”

That’s the first rule.

Pop is obviously not POPular with all the people. The genre we now know as ‘pop music’ is so far diluted from the initial coining of the phrase ‘popular music’ back in the sixties that it’s frightening. However, it’s what I play.


This Is Music

The top ten is the top ten for a reason (because only 8 year olds buy music? – ed).

A hit is a hit for a reason (good marketing/ video with tits out/British public consuming anything that is thrown at them? Eg: Bob The Builder, Mr Blobby, Mike Flowers, loads of other stuff – ed).

But please try to stick to the last ten years.

Going Underground

An underground tune that usually works in East London, will not work on pissed up Mary from accounts who hasn’t had a night out in 12 months.

10 seconds of a big song is unacceptable.

10 seconds of every song is unacceptable.

Wonderwall can only be played at the end (Mike Flowers version – ed).

Mike Flowers

Talking on the mic must be limited to twice in an hour/if at all (that must be torture for you – ed).

Mary in accounts is by now pissed and wants to twerk to impress Jim in finance, she hasn’t been laid in forever, so let her have this moment. If you don’t play ‘Crazy In Love’ you’re a fool.

She done the practice alright...

She done the practice alright…

Anyway I did good. I was very happy, I naturally put my own stamp on it. By beginning and ending with Britney. Your own stamp is fine, so long as you stick to the above rules. This isn’t an audition, it is a Christmas party for everyone to enjoy. Credibility is not the main agenda here (is it ever? – ed).

Anyway I got drunk because it’s the works Christmas party.

Here are some awkward bits

I asked my colleagues Marv and Charles “Who’s ya mate?” They started laughing and were like “You know” (no I really didn’t or I wouldn’t have asked) I’m like “Do I?” “Yes Toni you met last year”….. (sniggers). Me: *Stares at mate’s face, realisation hits.

Pulled him at the last Christmas party. Awkward. My work here is done.

I then decided I may as well pretend I fancy 40% of the people I work with, and send some Christmas slut, I mean cheer. So I went on a lap of the room and flirted with everyone I could, girls included.

I found my mate Sarah, she was sat with five people and two plates of food. I labelled this place. “Dud’s corner”. I slut dropped and left.

At another table, equally dud but at least free of the rancid lukewarm disgusting food. They got a full dance routine, which was going to end in the splits, but it didn’t because I was wearing white.

Shame would have been a great finale.

I did the hotline bling dance with a guy I really like but who’s name I’ve literally never bothered to learn.

My friend Al left a half-eaten bit of bread in my handbag. I ate this. Things had taken a turn for the worse

I don’t like to fall over in public, so I didn’t. That’s at least something.

But I did end up rekindling a past relationship. FS. I always go back to boys, I never learn, same few guys on rotation. It ends, it starts again, it ends, it starts again, I blog about it. I’m a very sad individual.

It was time to leave

Grown ups took the aforementioned big balloons home with them. I saw a selection of bedwetters walking down the street (having not pulled) just holding a massive balloon. This was distressing.

Apparently the main gossip was a new girl I’ve not met, pulled Ronan Keating who I’ve also not met. Weird, and hugely disappointing my efforts of being a shit show didn’t end up in snatching the gossip headlines. I’ve lost it, and become boring.

Life is a rollercoaster, but he had a good time no matter what

Life is a rollercoaster, but he had a good time no matter what

Oh well there’s always a party I can ruin some other time.

Tomorrow will be a handy guide to things you should and shouldn’t do at your works Christmas party. TTYT, I’m off to cuddle my big balloon.