The bottom left picture shows the Bear kindly retying the knot on my corset which somehow came undone. Also, I had to get a picture of my eye make-up as it was my first proper attempt at that liquid eyeliner flicky thing and I was rather proud of the result.
There was much to-ing and fro-ing on my part beforehand, as I was finding it tremendously difficult to decide on a corset to wear. Granted, the red and black one was more in keeping with the Rocky Horror colour scheme, but the purple one meant I wouldn't have to keep readjusting myself all evening. Purple emerged victorious, as the question of boob-wrangling would inevitably have gotten more tiresome as the evening wore on.
All the usual mayhem applied, toast flying at the screen, an abundance of ass on show (man-ass included and impossible to tear your eyes away from, no matter how much you want to) water guns fired into the crowd, simulated sex onstage, you know yourself. The Bear and I each had a hip flask of rum stowed upon our respective persons and I can safely warn you beyond doubt that his 'n hers hip flasks will unquestionably be followed by his 'n hers headaches the next morning.
After the show, when the dancing had ensued (I say dancing, in my case I mean acting out as many lyrics as possible with increasingly erratic gesturing) I was approached by a foxy lady called Caroline with fire engine red hair and a top hat that I'm totally jealous of. Said lady made my night, as it turns out that she recognized me from this here blog and we had a great old chat about it, in between me not quite getting my head around the whole situation. She also informed me that Tura Satana died during the week, whose ridiculously colourful life I've previously blogged about. Maybe now a film will be made about her, because someone really needs to dammit. So to summarise: sexy fun, sneaky rum, Hi Caroline! and RIP Tura, you total badass.