The Bump's Night Out

Last night I rejected the usual Friday slouch on the couch to bedeck myself with a bit of glitz and glam for The Bump's Night Out aka a colleague's maternity leave.
Imagine the scene, 9 party-hard-or-die females, 2 I'm-too-old-for-this-but-hey females and 1 obliged-to-go-but-would-rather-be-having-my-eyeballs-pierced male boss. [I'll leave you to work out which category I fall into...]
It all began rather sedately with the main attraction herself waiting for us in the bar. A few stiffies later [calm yourself, it's a drink but somewhat apt] we all moved on to the dining room, suitably chirpy, chatty and smiley. Maybe we should have stopped there and called it a night...

A pleasant young waiter came to take our orders but 11 females make a lot of noise when in party mode and under the influence of alcohol so he had a bit of a job on his hands. He had three goes at checking the orders but kept his smile stapled on like a trouper. Meanwhile, other diners in the very busy dining room were turning their heads to identify the source and nature of the endless shrieks and laughter. Anyone there for an intimate soiree was on a hiding to nothing.

The very sober Bumpee spent most of the evening trying to moderate her hysterical table companions but to no avail. I can't even tell you what generated the hilarity on one side of the table as I couldn't hear the conversations but it must have been lewd judging by the table slapping and eye popping reactions.

What I can tell you is that the climax of the evening [if that's the right phrase] was the arrival of the boss's dessert. He'd chosen strawberry fool. The waiter returned with a little plate the size of a saucer on which was placed half a strawberry, some mint leaves and a drizzle of strawberry coulis. The boss's face was a picture. There was mass hysterics [except of course from the boss]. It was the funniest thing I have seen in ages. It was so small and pathetic. It was the pauper of puddings. The table was awash with 'fool' witticisms.

The boss could barely contain his temper while the waiter with the stapled on smile took the sad half strawberry away and came back with a meringue nest crumbled into a wine glass as consolation. The boss ate it through gritted teeth [no mean feat], left his portion of the bill and escaped Stalag Gynae und Grub at top speed.

I can't divulge what happened afterwards at Bumpee's house but let's just say the follow up photos on Facebook are extortion worthy.