Ugly sisters didn’t raise an eyebrow

BACK in the mid-Seventies, I had a New Year’s Eve party at my house. I lived in a village in Essex and invited friends and neighbours.

People really got into the spirit of things and we had the usual assortment of Romans, policemen, kilted Scots, vicars and tarts, etc. One guest arrived in a frogman’s suit complete with facemask. Another was a scary Count Dracula with fangs.

One of my friends had suggested that he and I would look good as the two ugly sisters from Cinderella.

Being the Seventies, we both had massive sideburns, obligatory droopy moustaches and fashionably long hair.

Rouge cheeks only added to our bizarre appearance in long dresses and Doc Martens. The party was in full swing when we realised that we were running a bit low on booze. Now, the village pub was only a five-minute walk away, so I decided to go and buy some more supplies.

My fellow ugly sister and I told the guests where we were going and Dracula joined us, along with a perspiring frogman who wanted to cool off a bit.

I knew the pub landlord, and we just couldn’t wait to get his reaction when two heavily moustachioed dames, Count Dracula and a frogman strolled in.

We approached the bar and, without batting an eyelid, the landlord said: ‘What can I get you, gents?’ Deflated, we purchased our booze and left!

Don Townshend, Chelmsford, Essex.