The party season has BEGUN! The start of December heralds the highlight of the year’s work calendar – the wonder/horror that is the Christmas party.

In preparation I’ve had my brows done – they might look like two inverted Nike logos, but for all you ladies contemplating whether Scouse brows would be a good look when you’re swearing at your boss and snogging the IT guy, just do it.

I also managed to get the old roots touched up when I went for my brows and sparkly, pink make-up done. I’ve been waiting ages so that it’s the ‘last colour’ before Christmas – I walked into the salon looking like a washed-out paintbrush that’s been used to gloss the skirting boards and emerged looking like Barbara Cartland (EXACTLY the look I was going for).

Feeling pampered and pretty, I decided against resuming the Christmas shopping and went looking for a killer outfit to wear to the party – something that said “classy and stylish” but that wouldn’t turn down a kebab at the end of the night. I tottered towards the clothes store confidently,; no amount of harsh winter weather would budge this hairsprayed-to-death bouffant. I was anticipating a relaxing afternoon of squeezing into dresses that hopefully wouldn’t rip. Instead, I was met with a panic-attack-inducing atmosphere. It was BLACK FRIDAY.

Sale banners were everywhere, the queues reached all the way to Salterbeck and I’m sure I saw two old dears fighting it out over a pair of thermals.

I headed to the ladies department and was met with rows upon rows of clothes rails. I love a bargain, so was prepared to spend the next six hours going through every single clothes rail, even if it meant the kids would be spending the night at school. It quickly turned nasty. People were shoving each other out of the way and pinching other folks’ items from unattended baskets. I was told that if I kept it up I’d be asked to leave.

It was then I spotted a gorgeous, emerald dress. I couldn’t quite reach it to check the size but it looked as though it would accommodate a baby elephant so I was sure it would fit my good self. As I climbed over a few women to reach it a lady appeared from nowhere and picked it up. I tried to get closer but I became encased in a rather large pair of Spanx and came crashing to the floor.

I watched as she mused over the dress, even setting it back down a few times before popping it in her basket. Once I’d freed myself I started stalking her. Several people stopped me asking where certain products were, they must have thought I was a store detective-or a crazy vigilante.I followed her into the kegs department and watched her put down the basket. While her back was turned I reached into the basket, actually touching the fabric. “I’ve told you before!” a booming voice screamed down at me.

As I was ejected I clung in vain to the dress. RRRIPPPP!

It was the first time I’ve had to pay for an item and couldn’t keep it. The lady even got a 20% discount because it was ‘fixable.’ In a weird way I suppose I’ve spread some Christmas cheer. Plus, I look better in pink anyway.