We used to have a comments section and then we deleted it so we could write this article. I am serious. I am serious about this. We got the email a few weeks before the change. "RE: Comments Section," it read. "That cesspit, that awful pit of cess. We are closing it because it's just the same three lads called 'Ben' telling us VICE used to be better back in the old days." The email continued: "And so you can now write openly about aspects of the lifestyle of the middle class, safe in the knowledge that nobody will call you a 'sell out' or accuse you of being 'out of touch with the common ket-addled reader', at least as long you do not check the comments thread on Facebook, amen." It was a good email and I liked it. The change has negatively affected absolutely no one at all. We live, now, in utopia. Welcome to it.
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And in that utopia we must talk about dinner parties, because you're probably 26 or thereabouts and you have been invited to one. This happens, and people don't talk about it: just like you turn 28 and realise all your mates are happily coupled up and have been for years and you, the last remaining all-singing, all-shagging singleton tearaway, get invited to four weddings in one summer and have a massive Tinder panic when you realise you've got a +1 to each and nobody to +1 with.That is exactly the same as this, but a couple of years earlier and involving slightly more Le Creuset casserole dishes *1. Dinner party invites are a rite of passage for all adults to go through with a small quiver of panic when they realise they are many pegs behind the Great Adulthood Race than everyone else they know, love and live with, and the only real reaction to being invited to one is to sink one bottle of red beforehand and three additional bottles during and cry-vomit into the nearest downstairs bathroom as soon as someone says the word "profiteroles".Here's how to have fun with it!
WHAT DO YOU WEAR?
WHAT DO YOU BRING?
Hey! What shall I bring? Wine?
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Great!
What colour? Of wine?
Well, we're having chicken for our main!
Here's what you bring: one bottle of £8 wine, the one with the biggest punt in the bottom that you can find at that price point; two (two.) bags of Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations, the finest crisp known to man (you will have been told to turn up at 7.30PM ["sharp!"] for dinner: it will not be served until 9.15PM at the earliest, and you will want the crisps); and, if you really want, a box of M&S chocolates or something that makes you look like you go to these things a lot. All in, you can get this done for under £15, which for a full home-cooked dinner (with wine) in return is a pretty good deal.I don't know what that means!
AH, SHIT, A WINE CUNT
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COMPLIMENT THE COOKING BUT DON'T GO TOO OVER THE TOP WITH IT
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THE BIT WHERE SOMEONE GETS AN ADULT BOARD GAME OUT AND GOES 'NO, DON'T GR— IT'S REALLY WELL REVIEWED!'
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THE CHEESE COURSE
THE GREAT 'OFFER TO WASH UP' CONUNDRUM
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It unfolds two ways from here and you always win:WAY ONE: You do the washing up, entirely. At first this sounds bad – you had to wash a cheese grater, man! You can't get your hand down the inside of that! – but also you get props for doing the washing up. "Oh, thank you," your host says, "thank you, thank you. You did the washing up." At the next dinner party – there will always be another one – they will point to you and say, "And you are so good for doing the washing up – always washing up, at parties! The party washer upper!" This is your legend now. This is your name. With one act of washing up you are assured kudos for it forever.WAY TWO: They go, "Oh, don't worry about the washing up. I'll do the washing up tomorrow." And then you don't have to do the washing up, but you still get points for attempting to do the washing up.?????? DID I JUST HACK DINNER PARTIES??????????? I THINK I FUCKING DID, YEAH!!!!!!!!!Ah, shit, you've made the mistake of having a dinner party at your own flat, the least-equipped place for this sort of thing on Earth. Do you have a tablecloth? Come on, mate. No. Of course you don't. Did you email all your flatmates to say this would be happening and to keep the kitchen clear? You did, but Rob forgot, but he'll mainly be in his room Skyping his Canadian girlfriend. Do you… even know how to make rice? Why have you done this? Why have you invited this hell down upon yourself?
THE RIGMAROLE OF TIDYING EVERYTHING AWAY TO MAKE A BIG TABLE
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YOU HAVE SO INEVITABLY BEEN SAT NEXT TO AN INCREDIBLY BORING MAN CALLED STEWART
TO NOSE OR NOT TO NOSE
PREPARING FOR THE KIND OF DISTURBING COOK A FRIEND YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW TURNS OUT TO BE
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AH, OK: A CAT
THE WEIRD BIT WHERE YOU DON'T KNOW WHETHER THIS… DO WE… MAKE THE CALL?
THAT BIT WHERE YOU HAVE TO PUT A SCARF ON AND KISS EVERYONE GOODNIGHT FOR SOME REASON AND PRETEND YOU ARE EVER GOING TO DO THIS AGAIN
1*. Seriously, do you realise how much a Le Creuset casserole dish even is? Have you ever Googled one? One hundred and forty clams, my brother. If anyone makes you food in a Le Creuset casserole dish you must get on your knees and orally thank them while they mutter, "Of course, it'll last a lifetime, so really it's an investment" over and over again until climax.