About fifteen years ago, we arrived at Mel’s 40^th.

She’s a friend but I’m much better mates with her husband and as guests arrived, we all had to sketch on this large canvas a picture depicting where you first met the birthday girl. So people had drawn the Golden Maccas arches, the school gates, Hoyts, etc. Some muscly guy was taking forever, so we went to the bar intending to come back and draw later.

After two hours, I’m with my mates and we were chatting to Trevor, Mel’s husband. He was pissed off about her previous boyfriend (who Trev didn’t even want invited), who was a ridiculously fit and handsome, French, cool guy with a man-bun, called Gaspard. He was also a brilliant artist and had taken an eternity to draw on the canvas an amazingly accurate picture of him and Mel, making out on a beach.

Mel planned to have the canvas mounted, so Trev was stressing that each morning she would be looking at such a reminder of her French lover.

Trev – “What’s that kids? Oh that’s just Gaspard an old friend of mummy’s. What? Why are they kissing while he’s shirtless?”

Trev is a 40-year-old, balding dad, with three kids, a mortgage and a gut. He can’t compete with an annoyingly still-handsome, muscle-bound artist, who’s had a lifetime of facials, gym and was no doubt telling Mel that he stayed single just waiting for her.

So, I whispered in Trev’s ear and snuck off to the front of the house.

Everybody had finished drawing and the canvas was unguarded. Now I must admit, the picture of Gaspard and our Mel with eyes passionately half-closed, was incredibly lifelike. He had used up about half of the canvas, but it was very good.

Picking up the black Sharpie, I drew a penis on Gaspard.

It was not an overly large penis (again thinking of Mel’s husband Trev), but a penis it was. My work having been completed, I returned to the lads who then went to check out my artistry. About five minutes after they returned, slapping me on the back, it started.

Three women I didn’t know approached.

One of them – “WHO’S THE ANIMAL WHO RUINED THE PICTURE?”

I had no idea how they knew it was one of us, but I thought I’d better cop to it. After all, it was a harmless little thing, doodled with honourable Trev-intentions.

Me (in a contrite voice) – “I um… I may have penised Gaspard.”

Well, the women went BERZERK.

They yelled and called me quite a few names. They berated me for a long time. And when they had finished, the next bunch of party goers stepped up, went psycho at me, and then the next. I felt like there was a queue all waiting to rip me a new one for defacing Gaspard’s masterpiece.

Each time I got abused, the boys just pissed themselves laughing. My wife left because of the blow-back (but she normally leaves parties early anyway), Mel spent much of the night shooting me the old stink-eye from the kitchen and I was attacked all night. Too much.

Eventually Gaspard comes up. FURIOUS, doesn’t go far enough to describe his anger. He was IRATE!

Gaspard (in a French accent) – “HEATHEN YOBO! HOW DARE YOU DESTROY MY TRIBUTE TO MEL.” He waved his arms theatrically.

Me – “Well French, you did take up a lot more space than you were allocated.”

Gaspard (with his finger right in my face) – “IT SHOWED OUR PASSION, OUR LOVE. WHO ARE YOU TO DO THAT?”

Me – “SHE’S NOT YOUR WIFE MATE.”

To check I hadn’t crossed the line, I snuck a look over Gaspard’s shoulder to husband-Trev. He shot me a subtle thumbs up, which said thank you my brother. So it was worth it.

I thought the lads were going to collapse laughing. Eventually Gaspard moved on and seemed content pointing and sledging me to other people. The party went along, I copped constant abuse and it finally came to the end of the evening. Mel had gone to bed angry and a mate and I were the last to leave.

On the way out, I went to have another look at my artwork, considering the degree of hatred I had inadvertently created amongst seemingly every guest.

To my horror, I noticed that my harmless little Gaspard-penis, had been vandalised!

The penis was five times the size of the one I had done and somebody had drawn little dashes to represent an ark of momentum and they had added semen, not just being projected from my Gaspard-penis, but landing in Mel’s eye! Her half-closed look of passion that the French artist had so magnificently captured, now looked like she was squinting because she had something untoward, IN HER EYE!

Everybody for the last four hours, including my lovely wife had thought me some depraved, huge-penis, semen-drawing weirdo!

My mate – “Yeah, sorry, we embellished it a little. Why’d you think we were pissing ourselves laughing each time somebody got up you?”

I was dumbfounded.

Mel never forgave me.

I thought to myself, why does this stuff always happen to me??

Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to claim at parties much to my wife’s chagrin, that I am in fact… a writer. If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art, of blogging. And check out my new craft beer business I set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers