What kind of fancy dress store has security? A queue that reaches one and half hours?
The back story…
October 26th. Opening night of the public showings of Skyfall. Fancy dress party at the cinema.
Mission: find a gun.
I headed over to the Angels fancy dress store on Shaftesbury Avenue. To my horror, I easily found it.
I easily found it because the queue was half way down the road and the security guys were shouting “Keep to the right, keep to the right!” at everyone.
I approached a guy with an earpiece and asked what on earth was happening.
“It’s really popular. It’s before Halloween.”
Oh, of course. Trust October 31st to eclipse October 26th, which is what the real party should have been about.
Nevertheless, I queued up at was admitted into Bedlam within 10 minutes.
On entering, I met security guard number #42. “Women’s costumes upstairs! Women’s costumes upstairs! Move along! [To me] MOVE along!”
“I want a gun!” I shouted, before I could stop myself.
The guard paused, assessing whether I was a nutter, or whether I was there to buy a toy gun. He waved me vaguely towards the counter.
I squeezed my way towards it and eyed up a couple of plastic pathetic items.
“Do you have any more guns?” I asked the lady. She pulled open a draw, revealing a cowboy gun, a space shooter, and a small blue plastic thing.
“Any James Bond guns?” I said, hopefully.
I was out of luck and strode to Covent Garden, intending to raid toy shops. I eventually found this:
“Do you have any scarier guns?” I asked the man at the counter.
He blinked at me. “Erm, no. We have less scary ones, though.”
“No, I need scary. James Bond.”
It looked like this gun was going to be my best bet. It was still blue, but it was metal! No-one need know it’s supposed to shoot potatoes.
Sadly, no-one really bothered dressing up. The result was that at 4.50 in the afternoon, I was strutting across London looking like an expensive prostitute.
To make matters worse, I had to wait in the foyer for my friend to arrive, whilst the others went on in. Cue: look busy on my mobile phone. Which is a brick and can not keep you entertained for very long.
I texted my friend.
“Hurry up! Someone is going to offer to pay for my services soon! x”
“I’m coming! Just three more minutes x”
“Hurry, Bond, hurry! There is no time! x”
So Skyfall was great! What happens at the end is….
Yeah, I’m not that mean.
Post-film, my friends decided not to stay at the James Bond party but to search for dinner. The fancy dress was, therefore, for nothing. It certainly wasn’t required at a cheap Singaporean restaurant. But as my Singaporean friend assured me, if you want authentic, basic, Singaporean food, momo’wich, just across from Spitalfields market, is the place to go. Even Bond girls have to eat.
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