The Year 13 Bromll

You see a "bromll" (if you haven't already guessed it) is a combination of the words "prom" and "ball" and you see that's why that title is funny. It's not funny. Yes it is. No, you've just haphazardly combined two words together because no one ever knew whether to call this a prom or a ball. And that's why it's funny. Your definition of humour is currently lost on me. You must be tired. Only as tired as you are, Inside Voice. Yeah but my ability to formulate witty and cognitive responses for the ever-so-wonderful audience has not been affected by the fact that we went to bed 5 hours ago. And that was certainly not cool with me. Uh... shut up. Exactly.

So, the ball eh? How about that? I suppose the only thing you really want to see is pictures, actually. So I'll upload those and get back to you. 

Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us. The moron who is trying to write a blog post and upload pictures to Facebook at the same time will be with you shortly. In the meantime why don't you listen to lots of music you hate? 

Right, so the first thing we did with our brand new, all singing, all dancing suits (they didn't actually sing and dance) was line up and get a nice picture of the four of us. 

And then Dukey (because he's Dukey) found a cricket bat and guess what he immediately did. 

Tja, I know, moron right? We then had a look at the car we'd be driven around in, and my were we impressed. 

That's a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow 6litre V8. Crazy shit. 

Yeah! We got to sit in the driver's seat of a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow 6litre V8! How cool is that? 

We then set off on our trek into the nether-regions of Corby to find the venue, after a bumpy start of course. 

Just before that picture was taken the exhaust pipe grinded against the curb, making this horrible noise. We stopped and I bet all of us in the car thought, "Yeah, too good to be true. We won't arrive at the prom in a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow 6litre V8 after all." But luckily we did get there. 

That there is an awesome dashboard. It's a 70s car, but everything on it is electric. I know! I thought electric windows were only mass-produced at the turn of the millennium. It even had an electric gear box.

Anyway, we soon arrived at the venue and realised that people weren't giving it their best shot like they did in year 11. Nope, everyone turned up in their own cars, which made us the kings of the road. Anyway, pretty soon nice pictures and ridiculous pictures were taken. 

Joe and Becca giving an example of a nice photo

Dukey and Josh giving us a horrible example of a ridiculous photo

A nice photo of the Brotherhood all suited up

Harry and Edwards looking ridiculous

Caitlin and I looking lovely

For that last picture, Sophia said to me, "I thought you'd like this picture," and I really do. It makes me look popular. Hang on, though, I haven't finished the nice/ridiculous picture comparisons yet.

A nice picture of the Germans

A ridiculous picture of Quach feeling Luke's hairy man-purse

A nice picture ruined by two ridiculous louts

And indeed a very lovely picture of Quach and Maisie

So, lots of nice pictures were taken, and some people took the piss. But it's okay because we had a good time. So, from there on the dinner was poor but then Mr Witt started talking and by god he was hilarious.

(See below)

After some banter and loads of chats with different people, it was time to go. We booked a taxi and asked the driver to drive to the address. What a laugh. You see, we thought the driver would know where he was going, but he didn't, and he followed our blind instructions. Hah. We ended up just getting out in the middle of Geddington and walking, and that seemed to work beautifully. Anyway, when we arrived at Edwards' house we were tasked (as ever) with putting up Dukey's tent. Hah, what a laugh. It was soaked through and one of the poles split, splintering Quach with tiny glass fibres. Something good came out of trying to put that tent up. We'll never have to fucking attempt to get that thing up again. Needless to say the snackage and drinkage was limited, making me wonder where the hell the £5 I put towards buying food and drink for this event had gone. Hmm. I didn't really feel like I got my money's worth. Anyway, nothing really springs to mind when thinking of stuff that happened on this night. 

Salute to Stupidity: Gerald Witt Special

I will not be able to get all of his jibes in one go. (You guys will have to tell me everything that you can remember so I can put it here to be read and laughed at for all of eternity)

"If you go to Italy then you pick up the habit of pinching bottoms."

"If you go to Germany then you uh... soon have the want to invade Poland."

"Kick the basketball of fate at the wicket of destiny."

To be continued...