My Hallowe'en costume:


Black robe, black veil, red LEDs and my home-made stilts.

I made a kid piss himself about five years ago with this costume.

I should be far less proud of that.
( MatJ LOOK, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 23:50, 1 reply)

Pearoast Attack of the Clones.
I went to my drama-student sister's 21st birthday party as Boba Fett, with a very expensive helmet and blasters pilfered from my son's toybox. Thing was, I couldn't get a sitter so I drove myself down (helmet on the whole way) and couldn't drink because I'd to drive back. For a laughI avoided my family and everyone wondered who the mystery guest was. I stayed for an hour, drove myself home and sent my hubby down half an hour later in the same costume... He's a good foot taller then me. And doesn't drink. And doesn't like people. So he left after half an hour. I got back into the costume, went back down and when I finally said hello to the folks, they mentioned that there were two other Boba Fetts there that night, what an embarrassment.
(posthumous mince is tiptoeing through the tulips, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 23:43, 1 reply)

Polish (reheated) bananas
Poland, early Nineties, working as an English teacher in a town that had been slower to embrace change than the rest of the country, and was, shall we say, a little less than tolerant of deviants (whilst seemingly being full of people who seemed to want something very specific to do with them...)

Anyhow, a colleague decides to have a party, and to make it a little different, also decides that it should be a “Red Party”, meaning that everyone should wear something red. A friend, who, being Lucy, will remain nameless, decided that she and her friends should outdo the rest of the party, and thus eight people should go dressed as a red light district. There seemed to be some sort of logic to it at the time, but this has been lost in the mists of time and vodka.

The day comes, and the other lads take possession of the stock of fishnet stockings, skirts and bras offered by Lucy and Rachel (who will also remain anonymous). Groover J finds himself rather at a loss, as all the truly good stuff has been nabbed. At Lucy’s suggestion (there may also have been vodka involved), it is decided that going as a rent boy will complete the red light district’s charms and services. Boy I was not then (and am even less now), for rent definitely not so. But hell.

So, off we go. Pink shirt open to the waist (with rather a camp medallion), tight leggings, clogs (clogs?), a dinky little hat, half a dozen earrings (made from paper clips), copious make-up, and, logically, a banana stuffed down the leggings. God only knows what I looked like. The vodka excuse now sounds more and more likely.

Off we go to the party, in a taxi. On the way, we had to stop at the major station to pick up cigarettes. Lucy dressed like a Soho cocktail whore, Groover J in his finery. I swear, seeing some of the looks (and unintelligible Polish comments), we could have made an absolute killing that night, there and then, at the station, if we had been so inclined (no way, as far as either of us were concerned).

Of course, we get to the party and no sod is wearing anything red, and we look like a bunch of tits. On the up side, I did get sufficiently hammered on vodka to go around asking all the girls if they’d like to feel my banana…
(groover j lazerus, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 21:15, 1 reply)

Romans Vs Jesii n Lazers
The best dressing up story I've got was when we booked the local lazerquest arena and went as Jesuses vs Romans. The pinnacle of the experience was when my friend Mark was cornered and he accidently leaned back onto the bar of the double doors of the fire escape. Mark then fell backwards through the doors which opened into the nextdoor pub's beer garden. Imagine the faces of the friday night beer swilling punters, as a Roman centurion bursts into their garden, lands on his back and is followed out by 3 Jesii who start emptying lazer rounds into his chest. One of my life's best moments.
(johnnysmokes, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 19:28, 9 replies)

More nuts than a King Size Marathon.
A pea-roast for you:

Back in The Day, when I was a long-haired Heavy Metal Guitar Hero (as opposed to the fat slaphead I am now), and my life revolved around alcohol, I naturally used to hang around with a gang of likeminded wreck-heads.

So, one of these idiots, sorry, my friends, was seeing a model. A gen-u-ine model, a regular in The Sunday Sport (back in the days before it became a Daily) illustrating some story she just made up, and, well, not exactly a rocket scientist. A lovely gal though, very docile.

Now, on the night in question, 6 of us ended up after the pub had shut round at her flat. Having woken the entire building by rampaging round doing Celtic Frost death-grunts, she was desperate to quieten us down.
"Look boys, look at all my sexy clothes" she declared, throwing open the door to the biggest wardrobe I have ever seen. It may well have simply been one room, it was immense, and we all hushed, as one imagining her in some of the frilly and lacy delights that greeted us.

There was all manner of wierd and wonderful things in there, it was like Mr Benn's secret dream. Dresses, nighties, uniforms, wigs, thigh-high PVC boots, more shoes than Imelda Marcos (mostly ridiculously high and made of clear perspex), underwear a-go-go, you name it, it was in there.
Suddenly the spell was broken:
"Fookin ell, let's dress up!!" from one of my comrades as he dived in, followed by the rest.
And me, I'm ashamed to say.
We were like kiddies, but at least we weren't playing human pinball listening to Slayer in her living room, so she was happy.

Some time later we emerged, dressed like Danny La Rue's sickest fantasy. Even today, my brain keeps most of the details suppressed, but I can recall I had a baby-doll on, and a Madonna-style metal bra over the top. I was dressed conservatively compared to the others. There was nurse, a dominatrix, plus assorted cavemen in dresses.

Suddenly, some bright spark decided it would be a hoot if we traipsed up to the 24-hour garage "to scare the poofs" who apparently worked there, so off we set, teetering on badly fitting over-high heels.

Who knows if we actually got to the garage, but I do know that at some point a car pulled up alongside and 2 girls leapt out and took photos, and I distinctly remember they knew our names. I have no clue who they were, and no-one has ever owned up. I just know that one day, when the keys to No 10 Downing St are within my grasp, they will re-surface, pics in hand.

The worst thing, the thing that is seared into my memory, is Tommy, wearing a WPC tunic, hat, and erm, lingerie:
"Hey, hey, look at this.........Evening all!!"...... bending his knees in the time-honoured Rozzer fashion. It was the sight of his nuts hanging out of his split-crotch panties as he did it that haunts me.........
(Rsoles, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 14:54, 2 replies)

This story takes place a few years ago, in Portugal for a friends stag do.

It was the second day of the weekend, and having started the occasion with the standard proceedure of making the first night the worst, we were all pretty fragile. I was by far however, the worst. The chicken kebab i'd consumed at the end of the night rendered me useless for the whole day, with the consequences of too much alcohol, and half cooked chicken being in full effect.

By order of the best man, I dragged myself out of bed for the start of the second evening. A hearty bbq over a few beers actually made me feel slightly better, and the confidence id lost in being able to retain my stomach contents from both ends had returned!

The theme for that night, was the not so original stag do idea of...a group of lads, dressed as women. I left that night, dressed as a hula girl, consisting of a horrible cheap wig, a plastic coconut bikini top, a grass skirt, the smallest pair of boxers I could find to try and keep a bit of dignity, and some flip-flops.

The pub golf was in full swing, and copious amounts of shots were going down. Moving from bar to bar was going well, and we had even started to gather a small group of girls who were keen to join the banter.

It was upon leaving the fourth bar that I felt the gurgle in my stomach, and the fear set in. What was in my stomach, was going to come out whether I liked it or not, and it was coming right then and there.

I ran across the road and ducked behind a car, dropped my boxers and my arse exploded. Of course on seeing me sprint behind the car, the rest of the lads (and the random girls who were there too) came over to see what was wrong. The only thing I remember at the exact moment, were girls running in all directions screaming, and a group of lads trying to catch their breath as they were laughing so hard.

I'd managed to produce some serious bum gravy all over the grass skirt i had on, and only had my boxers to clean myself up with. They both had to go immediately. The only thing I had left was the coconut bikini top.

So if you were in Portugal a few years ago, and saw a sorry looking drunk man walking home wearing only a wig and a coconut bikini to cup his meat and veg, that was me.

Oh the shame...
(Padsy, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 12:59, 1 reply)

So i was working a halloween fancy dress last year and umong the usual slutty cat women costumes and eighteen blokes dressing as freddy kruger there was a rather portly,bearded gentlemen who was just wearing a pinstripe suit stood alone at the end of the bar.
As a professional bar tender it is of course my duty to annoy such loners into boring conversation about sport,weather or whatever small talk i can conjure.

I sauntered over to said gentlemen "You know.." i said "I can't stand dressing up either"
He looked at me gone out as if i'd just said the most offensive thing known to man.
"Oh i'm in fancy dress, can't you tell who i am" He said putting on a pair of glasses and reaching into his trouser pocket.

I took a step back racking my brain for some sort of clue upon his person.

He sighed and took out a toy sonic screwdriver "I'm Dr Who!"

"Oh.... my mistake" I replied before suddenly remembering i needed to fetch more ice......
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Tue 30 Oct 2012, 2:24, 3 replies)

Me and my cousin circa 1994
We went around the Blaenymaes area of Swansea trick or treating. He dressed in a black bag he bought for 10p, tracksuit bottoms and trainers. I didn't want to spend 10p on one in the shop so I went as myself in my normal clothes. Still managed to make a couple of quid and some sweets though.
(Claude Speed was a Roman called Claudius Speedicus, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 22:03, 6 replies)

Master Chief
For last year's SantaCon (which I believe was attended by at least a few other b3tans) I dressed as the one and only Master Chief. For the first two hours of freezing cold standing around at Trafalgar Square my friend (who didn't scale his suit down, make a helmet nor fiberglass it) and I couldn't move more than 10 meters without another group of people queuing up to take photos. The best bit was acting as a human shield for my petite girlfriend from the barrage of brussel sprouts which happens when that many drunk Santae get together, not to mention watching her get pushed aside by other ladies when pictures were taken.





Notice the camelpak sneakily hidden under the backpack which satisfied my urge to consume the devil's drink during the course of the day. You may also notice the armpiece and front of the helmet being held on with emergency sellotape after my feeble attempts at fiberglassing the insides failed as my arms moved around, beats my friend who ripped his off after getting sloshed on whisky - I only wish I had the suit ready for the Halo 4 launch next month...

This year's Halloween/SantaCon suit is the Berserker Predator from Predators which is currently a work in progress.



sorry for bigness!
(5ifty0, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 21:59, 7 replies)

One engineer at work
was somewhat famous for being out of the office a lot, meeting with clients and shmoozing to a ridiculous degree. He got his work done, so no one ever said anything to him about it, but on pretty much any given sunny day Dave was gone.

That Halloween I commented that I would be Dave for Halloween and simply not be there.

He never quite forgave me for that...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 29 Oct 2012, 18:53, 4 replies)

I think I may go out on Halloween
dressed in standard workaday clothes and declare that I'm a serial killer- they look just like everybody else.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 29 Oct 2012, 18:49, 4 replies)

Does posing for a Cthulu Porn publication count?

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 17:46, 24 replies)

Club 18-30s
On a Club 18-30s (or AIDS 'n' Herpes) holiday a while back one of the big party events of the week was the Fancy Dress night. We were 3 lads from Borehamwood who really couldn't be arsed to make the effort needed for a toga.

We turned up at the venue, walking three abreast with a gap of about 6 feet between each bloke. We were dressed in just shorts and T-shirts, with a cord clothes-pegged to our shoulders, joining us together.

We were a washing line.

As the night got messier and less lucid there were all manner of costume malfunctions ie bed sheets stopped being togas. Not for us three smug bastards.

It's the little victories that mean so much to small minds.
(Barnetboy, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 16:16, Reply)

the drinking hat
in my early twenties, i shared a flat with a friend of mine, who had recently had a baby. as we couldn't go out drinking, we took every opportunity we could* to get pissed. one such night, we'd had a spot of luck on bingo and treated ourselves to a bottle of vodka to celebrate an evening without the restrictions of childcare.
at some point in the evening, i decided that i needed a wee. going up to the bathroom, i discovered what looked like a waterproof cloth doughnut. of course, i put it on my head.
back in the living room, my friend explained that it was a thing to stop water getting into the baby's eyes when she washed his hair. i decided that this should no longer be the case and declared it to be my drinking hat. every time we've had a drink since then, i've worn my drinking hat after i've had a few.
until 2 years ago. that was when the drinking hat had to be thrown away. our nights on the piss just haven't seemed the same since, not even when i tried to row a baby bath across her kitchen floor with a mop. i needed my drinking hat.
2 days ago, whilst walking down the road in high wind, i noticed something blowing up the road towards me. something sequinned. something red.
it was a fedora. a beautiful, red, sparkly fedora, no owner in sight.
it now lives in my bedroom.
i have my new drinking hat!


*we always made sure the baby had a sitter and didn't get drunk when he was in the house with us. we weren't completely irresponsible!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 16:12, 2 replies)

I went to the Renaissance Faire a couple of years ago
wearing my usual outfit for such things, dark brown canvas cargo pants with a white lace-up shirt and a green cape. I usually carry along a staff of some sort and a drinking horn. This time I carried a goofy staff with a pair of antlers on the top that I had found in a junk store to which I had glued some novelty ping pong balls made to look like eyeballs. But the piece de resistance was a blank white mask.

As I walked through the crowds I noticed people looking askance at me, wary expressions as they dodged out of my way. I decided to play it up a bit and took to stalking along, turning my head suddenly to look at people and make them jump.

I had underestimated the impact I was having, it seems. I went to the beer tent and waited in line, and the woman at the counter requested that I lift the mask to verify my age. I had honestly forgotten about that aspect and cheerfully slid it up, and heard a drunken cheer of "Beer Man! Beer Man has a face!" I grinned at the group of guys and hoisted my cup before replacing the mask and stalking off again, a straw in my drinking horn so I could drink through it.

Of course I eventually came close to a small child whose eyes grew enormous as she clutched at her mother. I responded by pulling the mask up and making goofy faces at her until she laughed, then pretended that the staff was looking around before peering at her. The mother laughed with the kid and thanked me before I left.

After a few more beers it got to be even funnier to me, and I would sometimes utter a deep "mwaahaahaahaahaa", drawing the occasional small scream followed by a nervous giggle from a cute girl. I spent the day watching shows, drinking beer and clowning around, safe behind the mask.

At the end of the day as people filed out I hung back, as I had no desire to spend the better part of an hour sitting in my car while the traffic got sorted. I stood near the exit watching the people go by, and even had a few people ask me for pictures. I agreed, of course, and finally had someone snap one with my own camera besides.


Once I left I stalked out to my car, and on the way passed by a young couple sitting back and watching the traffic. They recognized me and cheered, so I sat down with them. The girl sighed. "Man, I'd give twenty bucks right now for a beer."

I stood. "Right back..."

I returned with three beers that I had packed in case I wanted to go out to the car and eat during the day (I had eaten the food but left the beer) and handed them two. They gaped, then burst out laughing. I tried to wave away the twenty, but they insisted. We drank our beers as we watched the tail lights thin, then said goodnight and went to our own cars.

Amazing what a difference a three dollar mask can make...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 29 Oct 2012, 15:59, Reply)

Jaws
Years ago, I was invited to a James Bond party. I knew it would be wall to wall dinner jackets and bow ties for the men so I wanted to do something different. On a suggestion of a colleague, I went as Jaws but mixing genres. Instead of giving myself metal teeth I pinned a cardboard shark's fin to my back.
(BearWithLittleBrain, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 13:08, 3 replies)

This Hallowe'en
I plan on donning a brown corduroy suit, bow tie and glasses. If questioned, I will claim to be dressing Up.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 12:29, 9 replies)

I do love fancy dress...
Bertie Bassett is one of my favourite costumes. It cost less than £10 to make - I had to buy a pair of yellow shorts, a blue foam yoga mat and a roll of black gaffer tape but everything else I had already.



I went round Beatherder Festival with a box of Liquorice Allsorts handing them out to anyone who showed an interest. I even offered one to Mr Motivator when I went on stage to dance with him. He declined - that lycra isn't very forgiving.



I also appear as Bertie in Biscuithead and the Biscuit Badgers music video for "Seaweed under the Sofa" which is fab and well worth a watch/listen. www.youtube.com/watch?v=zC4PFpSDG7g
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 10:11, 3 replies)

In the mid-70's after my mum's hubby died.
We travelled to England to visit my grandparents.

Via a cruise liner. (For any boat-spotters, the SA Vaal - www.timetableimages.com/maritime/images/ucl67b.htm).
During the trip they had a children's dress up competition.

My mum dressed me up with a rectangle of cardboard, rolled & then painted in stripes of grey, red, white, blue, grey & black at the top.

As the funnel of the ship.

If I can figure out how to make xfce work with my scanner I'll post the pics I've got.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Mon 29 Oct 2012, 7:29, Reply)

I only have one fairly interesting story about me. 'Twas for muckup day graduating from high school, and myself being ridiculously small had to find a costume that would fit and not be a typical horrible girly fairy costume for wee little kids. I did find one which looked great, it was a police woman costume and it fit me!
The guy at the counter had to explain that this was a fetish costume so I couldn't wear it. Which leads me to wonder why they would make that sort of thing in my size.

No, my main story for today is about my brother, quite recently. He was invited to a costume party, where the theme was 'heroes and legends'. He had planned to go with his workmates (all security at the casino) as a group of Spartans, and had all their costumes ready. Except that he forgot to actually pick up the costume, and now the store was closed.
Frantically, him and dad pored over the internet for ideas for quick, easy homemade costumes. Until dad hit on an idea.
"Why don't you go as Padman?"

(as seen here in this advert...not sure if it airs over in Blighty)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgMl-iZ3tZM

And so it was that my brother dressed himself up in mum's sanitary pads. He was pretty chill with the whole thing and apparently had a lot of guys compliment his creative outfit.
(Avnas dosh!, Mon 29 Oct 2012, 5:59, 1 reply)

Three years ago ...

Looked better when I was standing but for some reason all the photos show me sitting
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Sun 28 Oct 2012, 23:03, Reply)

A mate of mine for Halloween this year
Dressed up as a superhero called "Low Budget Man"
He stuck gaffertape spelling out Low Budget Man to a white tshirt, wore a black bed sheet as a cape and wore an eye mask made from paper
At least he didn't try and get people to buy him drinks
(wehttamman via B3ta for microwave, Sun 28 Oct 2012, 20:19, 3 replies)

Costume competition
Last night, I went to a Halloween party with my boyfriend and a couple of pals. They made a great effort: she as Finn and he as the Ice King from Adventure Time. They made their costumes from scratch and there were many adjustments made before we were good to leave. It was worth it as loads of people came up to them and congratulated heir efforts throughout the evening.

Being lazy (and short on cash), I recycled a Darth Vader costume from my fancy dress birthday party (that was on the 4th May) and felt pretty pleased with myself leaving the house under a full-length raincoat, mask, poloneck and, er, hotpants. My boyfriend, however, isn't mad keen on dressing up. After finally getting him to agree to dress up, we still had to practically force him to have a painstakingly-crafted cardboard R2-D2 sellotaped to him that someone else had made and had been in my house since the aforementioned birthday party.

Who won a prize for 'creativity'?

of course it was him.
(dogman, Sun 28 Oct 2012, 17:59, 1 reply)

A while back
I went to a fancy dress as Frank Spencer. No not that one, the one off the telly.

Piece of piss really. One beret, one tank-top, one set of bicycle clips.

A friend commended me on the nice touch of wearing odd socks and having the tank top inside out and back to front "...what...erm...yeah...I thought it would add to the effect." I responded, while on the inside I wondered if I'd ever be able to dress myself properly.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Sun 28 Oct 2012, 15:56, 1 reply)

I suppose I should wheel out the Mr T picture again, shouldn't I?
It was for an '80s fancy dress party... I didn't win the best costume prize either, I was gutted!

I drove through Streatham in costume too, which got me some very funny looks :)


(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sun 28 Oct 2012, 14:52, 11 replies)

I always have a back up plan.
Every party or night out involving fancy dress I go in jeans and a shirt. "What have you come as then?" Someone always asks.
"Comfortable man!" I reply in my best superhero voice.
"But you were Comfortable man last year."
"Fine. I'm Bloke Who Won't Look Like A Bell End Going Home In The Early Hours Of The Morning."
People always look at their costume with a slighly embarrassed look on their face when I say that.

My friend wears a suit and goes as a teacher. At least I'm imaginative.
(Thor McLegend FUCK SHITPANTS PAC MAN, Sun 28 Oct 2012, 11:34, 6 replies)

Womble
My mum made me a Womble outfit for a fancy dress competition. It looked ok from the outside, but the stitches on the inside were far from smooth. I always remember them scratching at me around the neck. Anyway, it looked fairly good. I couldn't see a thing, for the eye-holes were about half way down the nose/snout thing. I did win second prize in the competition though, and I fell up the steps when climbing the stage to receive my award because I couldn't see shit. There are no photos of the costume... I wonder why that is.
( Black Moon Not cracked, I'm all up to be., Sun 28 Oct 2012, 11:09, Reply)

Pirates v Ninjas
This is, I believe, a fairly standard theme for a fancy dress party. My flatmate, in his capacity as Judo Team Captain, decided upon it for the Judo Team Pub Crawl. The flat tagged along, despite all being gangly and weak like a heroin-chic stick insect.

Chris, being a Weebl and Bob fan, went as a Ninja Pirate. I, being quite disorganised, went to a charity shop at the last minute and bought an orange tablecloth, a plastic gun that fired foam darts, some maracas and a rubber fedora, put on some sunglasses and told everyone that I was a Mexican Bandit. People nodded compassionately.

What happened, as I vaguely recollect, was that the decision was made to run between pubs while humming 'The Devil's Gallop' - see here www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7bsL00aCGg - as loudly as possible.

This was worth it for the moment when someone I knew went outside a pub to make a phone call, and was greeted with the sight and sound of the music from Dick Barton, a stream of pirates, then a stream of ninjas, then a ninja-pirate, then a vague shambles of a Mexican stranger who said 'Hi Jim' before piling into the pub.

He looked satisfyingly confused.
(thePontificator, Sat 27 Oct 2012, 16:26, 9 replies)

Captain Condom
Way back in the 80s my partner and I were invited to a fancy dress party by a rather pompous friend whom we shall call Newton Web-Bowen (now deceased).

He was a noted pederast, very similar to uncle Monty in "Withnail and I", except that due to a stroke he tended to drool a bit as he lusted after young gentlemen - many of whom were invited to the party.

The theme of this party was "Dress for Bed" (naturally) and thus we arrived to a throng of merry young gents all dressed in various forms of pyjamas, apart from one clever friend who had a condom taped to his jacket pocket.

I secreted our outfits in the bedroom and when the party was in full flight we changed and leapt into the living room in our costumes.

I wore a white bin bag, my partner wore a black one with a matching balloon taped to the top.

Cue stunned silence and opened mouthed collection of queens - apart from Newton who would drool if he opened his.
(Daddylover Putting the sex into sexygenarian since.., Sat 27 Oct 2012, 16:22, Reply)