I took another look around the party. Nearby, a large man was doing something hilarious with a plant-pot, and another man was trying to chat up the fridge. After a minute, a third man opened the fridge and reached in, and a small fight erupted. To be honest, I wasn't enjoying myself. It wasn't the party per-say, but going out in general that I had an aversion to these days. I'd seen Sink the Bismarck! last week, and was worried the same thing could happen to me at any moment.
Suddenly, I realised a woman was talking to me.
"... So that's it really. You just sow it up, and bang! You've got a spleen fit for a King. What do you do yourself?"
Resisting the temptation to panic, I thought on my feet.
"Oh?" She continued, "Proof-read what?"
Ok, I thought. Time to prove your mental prowess, show off your ability to improvise:
"Letters. I proof-read people's letters to David Tennant. They send me fan mail they want to send him, and I check the grammar and syntax and spelling, you know? Ooh, he's a stickler for that - won't read a letter with a misused apostrophe, not David."
I left her looking rather baffled, under the guise of fetching more drinks. Confident I'd pulled it off, I escaped through the bathroom window and ran home. The Royal Navy attempted to sink me on the way, but no-one can stop me now!