I hate these.
I hate the enforced informality of it all.
I hate the assumption that if you don't want to rock up to work in jeans, you want children to die around the world. I've started baiting people on this one and saying "Read all about Thomas Malthus and his thoughts on the matter!"
I hate having to fork out every single time or be seen as a pariah.
They're just crap.
But I am reminded of one that happened many moons ago at school. It was a dress down Friday but this simple message somehow got twisted, in the mind of one particular chappie, into Fancy Dress Friday.
Needless to say, when Friday rolled up and everybody turned up at school in Jeans and whatever fashion wear was the in thing in the early 90s (think shell suits, lots and lots of garish shell suits)...This one poor chappie strolls up in a full on bad-ass Cowboy outfit complete with fake moustache, sheriff's badge and two cap guns slung casually from a very masculine pistol belt.
Now if I was him, once I had gotten close enough to school to realise that nobody else was in fancy dress, I would have run home and changed into my jeans. What I would not have done is commit social suicide by rocking into school dressed like the bloody Riviera Kid.
Can you imagine the humiliation of sitting in geography, soaking up all the laughter from your peers because you're wielding a pair of six shooter's with a 10 gallon hat balanced on your bonce? Hindsight being 20/20, what with everybody else wearing either stone washed denim or a loud, and probably turquoise, shell-suit, he was likely the least ridiculous looking person in the room.
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