“I know,” answered Stef, “I just thought as it’s his thirtieth, he wouldn’t want to celebrate it. I know I won’t.”
“Yes you will Stef, because I shall make you celebrate it, the way you and Brian did to ME, and like we’re going to do to Brian, whether he likes it or not.” Steve had a mischievous grin on his face. “On the cheap, of course.”
Stef was relieved to hear that! With Steve talking about a huge party, inviting lots of showbiz friends, getting David Bowie to play a set for them, lots of alcohol AND a birthday cake, it was beginning to sound all a bit too expensive for a party that Brian was, to be honest, not too excited about.
So they got to work with the organising.
First thing they needed was a venue. That was easy. Steve’s brother was decorating a large, empty house in Kensington, not far from Brian’s new flat, and knew that the owners wouldn’t be moving in for ages, so he’d agreed to give Steve a key, in return for an invite for him and his mates to the party. “As long as you don’t go around asking for everybody’s autographs,” stated Steve.
Next, Bowie. “You phone him Stef,” said Steve. “He likes you better than me.” “How d’you work that out?” queried Stef. “Because he remembers you’re name. Whenever he talks to me it always begins with ‘Er…’,” said Steve. They both laughed because they knew he only ever actually remembered Brian’s name! Sometimes!
Next – party list. That was easy as well. Everyone they knew. A quarter of them would be too busy to come, a quarter wouldn’t want to come, another quarter would go anywhere for a party, and the last quarter wouldn’t remember who the hell Brian was. If they didn’t get enough guests they could always mention the word ‘Bowie’ and guarantee a few more acceptances.
Next – drinks. Bring a bottle. “No, actually, make it two,” said Steve. “some of those people drink more than us!”
Next – food. “Know any caterers?” asked Stef. “Don’t need to,” replied Steve. “Bri’s brother, being a bank manager, always uses the same caterers for it’s events. You know, hospitality to try and impress new clients and the like.” Stef nodded. “Well, they said they’d give him a special rate if he ever wanted anything done personally, so he’s taken them up on it. AND he said it pay for it himself as a birthday present to his little brother, as he can’t actually come on the day.”
“You seem to have everything sorted,” said Stef. He was quite amazed that Steve had organised a party, and hadn’t yet paid for anything. “But, what about a cake.”
“Sorted,” said Steve. “I’ve organised a huge pink one to be wheeled in during the party and guess who jumps out of it?” Stef shrugged his shoulders. “His MUM!” said Steve. Stef just sat with his mouth wide open. “Only joking,” said Steve, closing Stef’s mouth with his hand. “I’m making it myself.” Stef sat with his mouth open, again. “I can make a cake you know,” said Steve. “Anyway, I’m not fucking buying one.”
“Let’s make it fancy dress,” said Stef, who didn’t need an excuse to dress up, but decided it would be nice if everybody else did as well. “Fine,” said Steve. “As long a you’re not the blonde one from Abba again.” Stef’s face dropped. He was always the blonde one from Abba, and it was at least a couple of weeks since he’d worn the blue catsuit, sequined hat, and high heeled silver boots in his wardrobe. Damn.
So the party was organised. Stef printed out the invites on his computer. Steve sent them all out without stamps on.
Soon, the big day came. Stef kept Brian busy at his flat (use your imagination), while Steve organised the party. Bowie turned up, without his band, but with a guitar so Steve placed a stool in the corner for a little solo acoustic session. The caterers had been and laid out huge amounts of food. Loads of guests had arrived, including U2, Iggy, Ash, Marilyn Manson, Idlewild, PJHarvey and Nick Cave, “better keep those two separate” remembered Steve, and plenty of others, and they’d all bought the mandatory 2 bottles. Oh, and QOTSA, who’d bought 2 BOXES EACH and they weren’t expecting to share any!
9pm. In walked Brian, dressed in a long, silver gown with a crown on his head, to a huge chorus of HAPPY BIRTHDAY sung by all his famous friends. He was in his element. He was accompanied by Stef, wearing a long, red dress, with a long curly dark brown wig, and high-heeled black leather boots. “Okay, so he’s the other one from Abba this time” thought Steve, who, in a vague attempt to look like James Bond, was wearing a pinstripe suit (surprise, surprise), crisp white shirt and black bow tie, with a toy hand gun in his pocket (at least that’s what it looked like).
The evening went with a swing. There was plenty of drink, plenty of food, and even Steve’s packet sponge cake mix, which he’d covered with ready-made marzipan and pink icing went down a treat. Bowie played a great set, and everyone spent the evening dancing and singing karaoke style to Stef’s Abba CDs. Towards the end of the evening Brian decided he ought to thank his mates. “Don’t look at me,” said Stef, “Steve organised everything.” Brian couldn’t believe that his best mate, who always complained about always being skint, had spent so much time, effort and money organising such a wonderful birthday surprise.
“Thanks so much Stevie,” he said. “You’re such a wonderful person. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble. All that food and drink must have cost a fortune. And this house, it’s just amazing.”
“Anything for you,” said Steve, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “There is one thing though…”
“I rented the house for the night,” he continued. “But we thought we ought to check with the next door neighbours to make sure they didn’t mind us making a bit of noise.” “Very considerate,” said Brian. “Well, they’re on holiday on that side, but on the other side they said they wouldn’t mind if we made a bit of a donation. They’re volunteers for the Samaritans you see. So I agreed give them something, but, well after paying for everything else, well, I’m a bit strapped for cash. I don’t like to ask, being you’re birthday.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Brian. “I was dreading today, but I’ve had the best birthday EVER thanks to you.” He removed his wallet from his pocket. “Here, will £100 do?” He gave Steve a rolled up bundle of notes.
“That should do fine,” said Steve, and he put the bundle in his pocket.
THE END