'tis The Season To Be Jolly Well Careful
Sydney Morning Herald
Tuesday December 15, 1987
IT may be more of an epidemic than a fad, but hospitality hormones appear to be dangerously overactive at the moment.
It's the season when 20th-century man, displaying all his awesome innovation, pays homage to a most unusual nativity in far-off Bethlehem, by getting legless on harbour cruises, blitzed at barbecues, or by amazing the office party by taking his pants off over his head.
In the way of miracles such feats are modest, but they do remind one that Christmas is as much about holiness as about happiness.
Suddenly the social diary, previously disfigured only by the Jaycees'sausage sizzle in April and Karen's kitchen tea party in October, is an epic of work lunches, client dinners, Christmas cruises, family picnics, neighbourhood barbies, and guilty drinks with neglected acquaintances.
Despite the claims that you did your bit with the Boxing Day barbecue last year, the hospitality hormones are bound to pressure you into another thrash this time around, so it might be timely to revise a few of the ground rules.
Survival tactics are as important to the host as they are to the guest and observance of these pointers may help you avoid hitting the hurdle at the first knees-up of the season.
It's standard procedure to stay sober at your own party. I might add that it's an absolute hallmark of the perfect host that he enjoys his own party, but he should attempt to do so without sacrificing the powers of speech and locomotion.
Most men - some, anyway - determine early in life how much liquor they can carry without losing poise, equilibrium, partner, reputation and civil liberties ... generally in that order. But the capacity quotient is especially important, and especially vulnerable, in the host role. Monitor your own danger signals.
Despite the need to occasionally rest up in a week of back-to-back bashes, etiquette demands that you must remain tireless. You are pretty much at the mercy of an overstaying guest, and as long as he or she cares to remain, you must appear delighted with the company and genuinely regretful when parting time eventually comes.
That's etiquette, of course, which still tends to be pretty Victorian in its belief that agony is a virtue. If you encounter an extreme instance of over-staying, bring one of the following initiatives into play.
*Turn to your partner and/or straight-man and say, "Come on, we must be getting home so these people can have some sleep." Then look honestly embarrassed when you're reminded, "We are at home, silly."
*Even before the over-staying guest finishes his statement, agree, instantly, enthusiastically and even uncharacteristically.
*Fix the standard lamp. "You don't mind, do you? I've been meaning to do this for weeks." Or, better still, fix a clock, and keep asking what time it is.
*Arrange with your dog to demand to be taken out, so you can explain, apologetically, "We always take him out just before bedtime. Guess he thinks we've forgotten him, eh boy?"
All of this becomes much more difficult if you're careless enough to allow a guest to actually flake out, but there are occasions when a drunken, abusive guest is threatening the success of the party, when the coup de grace (or even cup de grace) can be used to your advantage.
When that occasion arises, lure the lush to a spare bedroom or broom closet and confide, "Let's have a drink in here" or "I must speak to you alone."Thereafter, a couple of Zombies or a nice tequila and Guinness can have you back attending to your other guests in no time.
And just a brief word about the morning after. Much of that surrealistic sensation is due to the anaesthetising after-effects of ethyl alcohol. Your sleeping stomach should be given time to get back into working condition before you throw iced water, coffee or other rude awakenings into it. If your mouth tastes as if you have been sitting up all night licking Libyan postage stamps, merely rinse it out with water or mouthwash.
However, should a pick-me-up be necessary after your stomach's wake-up call, bartenders on the old Flotta Lauro Line cruise ships used to swear by the Sneaky Pete.
Simply pour a half-glass of chilled champagne, then lay a slick of cognac on top by pouring over a bottoms-up spoon.
There, you're feeling better already.
© 1987 Sydney Morning Herald