Another tshirt.

This one I wore to a fancy dress party.
Like all of our sixth form parties, it was in the local rugby club.
There were only 20 of us in year 13, so the 'social committee' would add us all to the 'over 18' list, we'd drink numerous bottles of Smirnoff Ice (oh the class), dance embarrassingly to embarrassing songs, stumble home at about midnight then spend the next day complaining of hangovers.

This party in particular was memorable not only for the fact that my 'punk' blue hair dye didn't wash out entirely (next day= double history, with turquoise hair), nor my friend over-eagerly waving to our Head of Sixth, accidentally punching me in the face in the process.
Instead, I remember the misplaced drunken headbutt, swiftly dodged by the intended recipient (and not so swiftly dodged by me), which ended with one of my oh-so-punk safety pins stabbing me in the stomach.