I was halfway through dinner when a little packet of sheer terror landed on our table. No, it wasn’t an illegal substance or a charity donation envelope, but a pack of modelling balloons. An audible clatter of cutlery rang out around the hall and the chatter died out within seconds as we all stared at the terrifying intrusion on our table and listened as the Master of Ceremonies instructed us to create something imaginative as the winner would be announced after dessert.
A number of women promptly left their tables to hide in the ladies room, while the competitive men amongst us embraced the challenge with gusto, albeit a little heavy-handily if the loud bangs were anything to go by. Pops and squeakiness abounded for a short while and the results were largely shameful, as exemplified by my shoddy attempt…
A one-legged dog
A one-legged dog being eaten by a shark
Maybe I should have opted for the minimal effort and misdirection option:
Thankfully, aside from a little too much wine, I managed to escape at the end of the evening with good health. It seems that some poor souls are not as fortunate....
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