— Is it fancy dress?
— I hate fancy dress. I have no ideas.
— You’ll think of something.
— I don’t even like the term. No one in America knows what it means.
One of the idiots at work edited it out of some dialogue because he
didn’t know what it meant. They think it means something like “to
dress nicely”, as in “women go crazy for a fancy dressed man”.
— No worries, this isn’t America.
— As if i didn’t know.
— Fine. Don’t go. I’ll go by myself.
— Oh, i’ll go. It’s just such a pain. When it’s fancy dress, not
only do i have the usual problems of getting out the door, but i have
to come up with something clever to wear on top of that. It’s as bad
as pot luck. I hate pot luck.
— Go as me.
— You? That sort of transvestism is best kept to ourselves, dear.
— Then ‘me’, literally.
— “What are you?” “Fancy me” That’s so lame. I hate this.