A bottle of vodka, student debt, and the smooth Latin lullabies of the rapper Pitbull. It may sound like a regular Saturday night for me, but this was no regular night. This was Spookfest 2.0, and the costumes that made it the event of the year so far.
With a month of playlist planning, a week of decoration buying, and an hour of watching episodes of Goosebumps to get in the mood, this party was destined to go down in the history books.
Members of our house had engaged in a successful tour of Newcastle’s finest shopping establishments: Poundland, Wilko’s and a risky trip to the Tesco reduced section. Twenty-four of Poundland’s premium range of toilet rolls had been purchased – There was no way we were running out.
The house was spotless for the first time in what felt like months. This was nothing less than a heroic team effort from the nine spring-cleaning warriors of Queens Road. A task of gargantuan proportion. A real David vs. Goliath battle. One of those FA Cup third round games where a Conference North team ends up playing Arsenal away from home.
The speakers had arrived the previous evening. The speakers that would make or break this party. Initially we were taken aback at the sheer size of the beasts. Then we were taken aback by the fact that we didn’t have a clue how to work them. A shrewd phone call later and all of our worries had been quashed, just in time for the main event. Two floors of cheesy-tune enchantment. Two rooms of magical memories waiting to be created. Two wizards of playlist makers conjuring up the bangers the people wanted to hear. And two elderly neighbours in the mood to ruin it all…
We didn’t expect the first guests to arrive until around 20:00. We started drinking at 18:00. A homemade punch-like concoction rested on the table in the upstairs kitchen; a cauldron of bad decisions, regret and vodka that was consumed before the majority of people could get their hands on it.
Having taken every precaution to avoid confrontation with the world’s two most boring people, who just happened to live next door to us, we received our first complaint shortly after 8pm. I can imagine our neighbour was surprised when the door was answered by a lifeguard and a bottle of vodka, but even more surprised when we told them that it was just going to be a “quiet one”. Even if they didn’t believe us, the guests had started trickling in. The party was in full swing.
By this point, I’d moved on from the punch to a mixture of vodka and Fanta that I had made far too strong. Wes and I had created a game where we said to people “Think of a number between 1 and 3”. No matter what number they were thinking of, everyone had to drink.
A full refereeing team complete with two linesmen, offside flags, yellow cards and shaving foam spray arrived to officiate any bad behaviour. Bookings were dished out left, right and centre for bad dancing, weak costume efforts and even weaker pulling attempts.
My head had well and truly gone at this stage. I can’t say I remember a lot of what happened, but I can say that I had a lot of fun. If there’s one thing say I can say for sure though, it’s the residents of Queens Road certainly do know how to throw a good party.
The morning after had arrived and there were several hungover bodies lying haphazardly across alcohol-soaked floors. The stench of Strongbow Dark Fruits wafted throughout the halls. Fake cobwebs were mangled into the carpet, mashed in by the stomping of soggy feet. We knew we had a job on our hands to clean up this mess. And we had the power of ‘The Black Eyed Peas – I Got A Feeling’ to motivate us through it all.
Only Joshing Around 