Why We Shouldn't Do Parties

Author's Note:I know, I know :P But you would not believe the nightmare weeks I've been having. College's Chavvs, the lot... ugh.

Disclaimer:I do not own the Boosh

Warnings: Not really any...

Howard sighed.

Again Vince darted into the room with several jackets of obvious fashion, holding each one up to himself in the mirror in turn.

''M spoilt fer choice.' he said, more to his reflection than Howard.

Howard sighed again.

With a carefulness usually reserved for neurosurgery, Vince laid the jackets on his bed, and then began to fumble through the mishmash of cosmetics on his dressing table.

'Right. Now this is a bit ridiculous, but the one colour I need seems to 'ave packed 'is bags an' done a runner... oh no, wait a minute, found it; it was bummin' that eyeliner over there...' he mused in laughter to himself.

Howard sighed again.

Vince paused his lip-gloss application, 'Look, are you gonna keep doin' that? If so can you take it outside; don't be bringin' all that Northern gloom in 'ere. This is my room, Vince's Territory of Sunshine an' Rainbow. Your room's next door, filled with darkness...'

Howard bestowed upon Vince a look of sarcastic gratefulness, 'I feel much better now.'

Outside, it seemed to be a busy night. The street was filled with the sound of eager feet on their way to various celebrations, and the high-pitched, squeal-y sound of groups of overexcited giggling girls on their way to a wild night out. Even the sky seemed a tad on the hyperactive side of the spectrum.

I'm da Moon.

You... you know... yesterday?

Well yesterday... I did a party.

I wanted to... to 'ave a bit of fun an' go out, but when you are da Moon you can't... you can't go out to paint space red, so...

So I 'ad a big party right here...

It ended in... in catastrophe...

Cos...

Shootin' stars done a gatecrash, an' someone did a sick.

I'm da Moon.

Howard sighed again.

'Oh for...' It was Vince's turn to sigh and he spun to face Howard, hand on his hip, 'Look, what is the matter with you? You're givin' me frown lines!' he twirled the lip-gloss tube around his fingers.

Howard was sat in Vince's overzealous chair (covered in glitter and with the added burden of several ponchos draped over the back) with his head down, hair hanging in his face, elbows resting on his thighs with his hands interlaced. He was looking somehow beyond the floor, as if he was staring right through the ground and the Earth itself and out into space. He looked up at Vince briefly, mouth set in a thin line.

'Seriously Howard... what's the matter?' Forgetting, Vince tired to brush some of the Jazz maverick's hair from his face.

Howard jerked upright in his seat and flicked his hair back into its usual position with a sharp shake of his head, 'Don't touch me!'

It was Vince's turn to sigh again.

'You really wanna know what's up with me sir?' Howard lamented to the back of Vince's head.

'Mmm,' Vince replied, finishing applying a generous dose of lip-gloss and then pouting seductively in the mirror.

'I dunno, Vince, maybe it's because you, Vince Noir, are going off on night out, and I, Howard Moon, am staying in to sweep the floor,'

'What,' mischief tugged Vince's mouth into a sideways smile, 'like Cinderella?'

'Yeah, I'm just a powerful source of mockery for you, aren't I?'

'There's a couple o' pumpkins outside; Naboo could turn them into a coach for you. I'm sure Bollo could pull it-' Vince broke off in a laugh and ruffled his hair in the mirror.

'You know what-' Howard was up off the chair so quick Vince's heart leapt in alarm.

'You know what I really want?' Howard continued, 'What I really want is someone I can have a serious conversation with, someone who doesn't think it's fine n' dandy to mock and belittle me, someone who I can talk to without knowing that everything I say will be up on Myface by morning, someone who actually cares about me because I am me, Howard T.J. Moon, and not because I'm their personal valet!'

Vince looked funny for a minute, an expression that Howard couldn't quite understand, but then it changed abruptly, as if someone had flicked a switch back to "calm n' cocky".

'Oh,' he said, leaning back against his dresser, one hand gripping the edge tightly, 'Oh so you're just randy. You should've just said, it makes sense now...'

'I'm not just randy am I?' Howard snapped. 'I want someone to love me Vince, I'm in my forties! I wanna... I wanna settle down, y'know?'

Vince was looking at him. Unreadable again.

'What?' Howard realised he was getting slightly over emotional and sat down again.

'I could help you,' Vince said finally, 'but you'd never agree to it,'

'How do you know? Try me,'

'Well you'd 'affta wear the clothes I pick for you,'

'No way. I am not walking around Dalston in a mirrorball suit-'

Vince cut him off, seeming irritated and looking briefly out at the moon, 'Did I mention mirrorball suits? I'd pick you out things that's you'd wear, wouldn't I,'

'Right,' Howard stood up again, poised, 'I'm willin' to give it a try. I'm ready for it,'

'Yeah, well, you're gonna have to wait till tomorrow, cos I've got places to be...' Vince grabbed the nearest jacket, which turned out to be a cape, and left the room.

So, after today, after da party in da night-times,

Saturn 'ad to take 'is rings to the drycleaners, an' Mars spent an hour... when 'e... trying to get a pair of glasses off 'is face that someone 'ad drawed on.

Venus was pretty enraged...

An' Jupiter said I only 'ad myself to blame.

I'm da Moon.