"You know, in this light," Betty remarked, "you do look a bit like Churchill."
"Oh, just wait until I do my old impersonations," Ernest beamed. He cleared his throat before speaking, "We shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them on the landing grounds, but we shall never surrender!"
"Ooh, it sends shivers up me spine," Betty whispered in awe.
"Thank you, Mrs Slocombe," Ernest smiled. "And may I say how lovely you look this evening?"
"Will Mrs Grainger be joining us tonight?" Captain Peacock asked.
"Y-yes, she's coming in just now," Ernest replied.
An older woman dressed as a nun joined Ernest, smiling cheerfully at everyone. "You know," she said to him, "I still think you should have dressed as a vicar so we could try for the couples prize."
"You really think so?" Ernest asked.
"She has a point," Betty said. "You two would fare better if you entered as a couple."
"Well, it's too late now," Ernest sighed, twiddling his cigar between his fingers.
"Not necessarily, Ernest," Captain Peacock countered. "You could slip up to the mens department and borrow some items from stock for the evening. I think we might have some seconds that would fit you."
"And we could easily make a white collar," Mrs Grainger added.
Ernest grinned broadly and led his wife through the crowds. "I'll be right back!" he called over his shoulder.
"So, Stephen," Betty said, sidling up to the floorwalker. "Are you going to ask me to dance?"
Captain Peacock smiled genially at Betty. "Under other circumstances I would love to, but as there are so many staff here tonight and my wife is not here, perhaps it would be wise if we refrain from such frivolity."
"It's just a quick turn on the dance floor," Betty simpered.
"Nonetheless, I would prefer not to risk idle gossip amongst the others," Captain Peacock stated, firmly but with a note of kindness in his voice as if trying his best not to hurt her feelings.
"Oh well," Betty sighed. She ordered another gin and tonic from the barman. Just as she was about to knock it back a couple entered the social club dressed as Alice and the Mad Hatter. The resemblance was uncanny! Except...there was something just not right about Alice. She was a bit taller than the Mad Hatter and was walking a bit stiffly.
"Alright there, Betty?" came Shirley Brahms voice from under a large top hat. She tipped it back so she could wink at her coworkers and gave a big grin.
"My word!" Captain Peacock chuckled. "I had no idea. You look splendid!" He then turned to Alice and suddenly could not contain his laughter. "Which is more than I can say for young James here!"
"Charming," James Lucas grumbled. He adjusted his blonde wig and muttered a few vulgarities under his breath.
"How did you talk him into that lot?" Betty giggled.
"'E wanted to come as a couple, so I said I'd only do it if we could go as Alice and the Hatter," Shirley explained.
"Yeah, well, you didn't tell me I was supposed to dress as Alice," James snapped.
"I saved that bit for tonight," Shirley chuckled. "But I knew he'd do it if there was a bit of bob involved."
"And a bit of boob as well," James said. "Don't you forget the other part of our deal!"
"And what would that be?" Betty demanded, suddenly becoming quite stern.
"Oh, I told him if we won I'd go out on a couple dates with him," Shirley said. "It'll be worth it if we win tonight."
"Win or lose, we're going out," James reminded her.
Shirley ignored him and ordered a couple of drinks. "Where's Claybourne?" she asked.
"We haven't seen him yet," Betty replied. "Course, the way he was going on about his costume we may not recognise him at all."
Just then the girl Captain Peacock had come in with grabbed him by the arm. "Oh, I love this song!" she cried out. "Come dance with me, Stephen!"
"Why not?" Captain Peacock smiled, and he went out on the dance floor with her.
Betty watched them and seethed. "Doesn't want to invite gossip? Humph!"
"Isn't that Mr Davis' new secretary?" James asked.
"I think it is," Shirley agreed. "Yes, that's Karen Goodman. She only started a couple weeks ago."
"Oho!" Betty knocked back a third gin and tonic in one gulp. "I wonder now if Mrs Peacock even knows about this party."
"I highly doubt it," came a very familiar voice to their left.
James, Shirley, and Betty turned to see who had spoken and all three stared in absolute shock. A woman of about thirty stood next to them wearing a tight blue sequined cocktail dress that was slit up the side. Her suspender belts barely peeked out from under her skirt and her dark blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was sipping a cosmopolitan demurely and watching the party from her bar stool. Then she uncrossed and crossed her legs seductively, which made James sincerely wish he hadn't dressed as a seven year old girl.
"And what makes you so sure?" Betty asked, not impolitely, but with some reservation.
The woman raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing smile that revealed perfect teeth. "How long have we known Stephen?" she asked. "How many times has he proven that his loyalty to Mrs Peacock is, shall we say, less than perfect?"
With these words their jaws dropped even more, for they now recognised the woman, who was indeed not a woman.
"Claybourne Humphries?!" James whimpered in utter shock. "I-is that...is that really you?"
"I told you," Claybourne smiled. "I'm a shoe-in for that grand prize! We'll have to cook out this weekend to celebrate."
"But...your teeth!" Shirley pointed. "How did you fix them so fast?"
Claybourne looked around first then reached into his mouth and extracted a prosthetic cover that looked like real human teeth. Then he grinned, showing off the gap between his front incisors. "I borrowed these from a friend. She's got to have them back in the morning before she goes to work at the corner deli. Fortunately she lives just down the road from me."
"Aren't you worried about contamination?" James asked. "I mean, you never know where those have been."
"I do know, actually," Claybourne winked. "But I'll save that story for Monday morning."
Betty shook her head and turned back to watch Captain Peacock dancing merrily with Karen. She was obviously angry with being turned down and didn't mind who knew.
"I have an idea," James said, grinning maliciously. "Since Clay here is practically unidentifiable in his current state of dress, it would be easy for him to get any of the blokes here to dance with him, right?" The others nodded. "So, what if Mrs Peacock were to pop in right about the time that Captain Peacock was dancing with him?"
"That's low, even for you," Shirley snapped.
"I quite agree," Betty said. "Even though he has been quite rude to me I shouldn't want to cause any friction between him and his wife."
"We'd let her in on the joke," James assured them. "Eventually, anyway. Oh come on!"
But Betty was shaking her head. "No, I shall simply let this pass."
Just then Captain Peacock returned, looking a bit disheveled.
"Oh...that was fun," he panted. "I will need to catch my breath for a moment. Oh my," he added upon seeing Claybourne. "Who is this charming young lady?"
Before Claybourne could answer James stepped in and said, "This is Blanche. Blanche Pruitt, from Kitchenware."
"How lovely to meet you," Captain Peacock said, pouring on the charm. "I am Captain Stephen Peacock, floorwalker for the Ladies and Gents department on the first floor."
Claybourne smiled sweetly and shot James a confused look. James, however, was fighting back his laughter.
"Where's your friend, Stephen?" Shirley asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Ah, Miss Goodman has gone to powder her nose," Captain Peacock replied. He glanced down at his watch. "She's taking her time, too. Ah well. I could do with another drink. Barkeep!"
"I could do with another ginnentonic," Betty slurred slightly. She ordered her fourth and fifth at the same time.
"To your good health, Betty," Captain Peacock said, raising his glass in her direction
"And to yours, Stephen," Betty said. She knocked back half the drink and smacked her lips in appreciation.
"Walk with me Betty," Captain Peacock said. "I'd like a quick word...er, if you can walk."
Betty slid off her bar stool and staggered slightly until Captain Peacock took her arm in his. They walked a few feet away before he spoke again.
"I hope you are not terribly disappointed that I would not dance with you earlier," he said. "I danced with the lovely Miss Goldman because her father is an old friend of mine and he asked me to look after her tonight."
Betty rolled her eyes but Captain Peacock didn't see this. She drained her glass and set it carefully on the bar. "Think nothing of it, Stephen," she said. "I'm certainly not."
"That is good to hear," Captain Peacock said. "I wouldn't want anything to sour our friendship."
"You needn't worry," Betty told him. "I quite understand."
Captain Peacock nodded and led her back to her bar stool, where she needed a bit of help resuming her perch upon it. Once she was settled he picked up his martini and gave a sly wink to Claybourne.
"What was all that about?" Shirley asked.
"Oh, he was just trying to get back into my bood gooks," Betty slurred. "But I can't really stay cross with him, you know. He really is a gentleman in many respects."
Just then Captain Peacock crossed over to Claybourne and whispered something into his ear. Claybourne's eyebrows raised sharply and he clutched his own bar stool for support. He gave James a significant look before nodding to Captain Peacock, who took his glass and set it down on the bar with his martini before leading the young man in drag out onto the dance floor.
"There goes Captain Oblivious," James chuckled.
"What?" Betty drawled. Then she looked up and saw Captain Peacock holding Claybourne's hand as they walked onto the dance floor. She was instantly furious and the five gin and tonics were not helping one bit. She stood up quickly, nearly fell over, composed herself, then grabbed James and led him away. They had a swift exchange before she left the social club, still fuming. James, however, was beside himself with glee.
"I have waited a long time for this," James chuckled.
"For what?" Shirley asked.
"Vengeance," James replied. He ordered a beer and gave an evil laugh before turning up the bottle. Betty returned a few minutes later and took her back her spot at the bar.
"Your attention, please!" came Mr Rumbold's voice over the speakers. He stood on a small stage toward the back of the room, wearing a cheesy prison outfit complete with ball and chain. "It's time for the contest! Our judges will be walking around for the next ten minutes to have a good look at your costumes. If they deem yours suitable then you shall be given a red ribbon to wear. Mr Harman here will play a few more songs and once the ribbons are handed out we will have you come up to the stage. Good luck, everyone!"
Ernest and his wife finally returned to the party. He looked exactly like a priest, except he still had the cigar in his hand. His wife tutted at him to put it away but Ernest shushed her and lit it.
"Cor, blimey!" Shirley laughed. "I'd hate to be in confession with him listening!"
"How many Catholic priests smoke cigars, that's what I want to know," James grinned.
"Yes, I know," Ernest smiled. "But I do love a good cigar every once in a while. And since I'd already bitten the end off I thought, why not?"
"Well, put it out soon," Shirley told him. "The judges are going around, handing out ribbons. If you get one you're in the finals."
Just then a short Hebrew man dressed as Colonel Sanders walked up to them. "Oh, you all do look wonderful!" he bubbled.
"How are you, Mr Weinstock?" James greeted him.
"It's just Max tonight," he said, still smiling. "And I've got ribbons for nearly all of you! Your costumes are fantastic. Not like poor Mr Franco over there." He pointed over his shoulder to a man in boxing shorts and gloves. "Not very original, you know. Anyway, let me get these pinned on you." Max took out a handful of ribbons and pinned them on Ernest, Mrs Grainger, and Shirley.
"'Ere, wha' abou' me?" Betty asked.
"What about me as well?" James asked. "I mean, we're supposed to be a couple, me and Shirley."
"Well, it's just not all that original," Max replied. "I mean, guys dressing as girls...it's been done to death. Now if you looked like Mr Humphries over there..." He gestured to Claybourne, who was still dancing with Captain Peacock and had a ribbon pinned to his dress. "You might have had a chance. Maybe next year."
"Marvelous," James grumbled. "I get all dolled up like this and for nothing."
"Not sessanarily," Betty slurred.
"Sorry?" James said.
Betty responded by taking a small camera out of her handbag and clicked a few photos. Then she began cackling.
"That's the last time I help you out," James snapped.
"Oh, like you're not getting any fun out of this," Betty giggled. "Oi, take this and get a few shots of yer own."
She handed the camera to James, who looked as if Christmas had come early. He found a good position and began snapping shots of Captain Peacock and Claybourne dancing. Then he passed the camera back, saying, "Before we leave tonight we're going up to the one-hour photo lab to have those developed! Doubles! I want copies!"
Betty gave him a hearty wink and they clinked their beverages together.
"Your attention, please!" Mr Rumbold addressed everyone. "It's time to select the winners of the fancy dress competition. If you received a ribbon please come up to the stage now."
"That'll be us, Ernest," Mrs Grainger said.
Ernest, Mrs Grainger, Shirley and Claybourne went up to the stage. They stood with several others, including someone in a gorilla outfit, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, a construction worker, a Native American, a sailor, a police officer, a cowboy, a soldier, a biker, and Fred and Wilma Flintstone.
Max Weinstock and three other judges surveyed the competitors. Soon they began whispering amongst themselves.
"The judges are conferring," Mr Rumbold said into the microphone. "Now, if they come up to you and remove your ribbon, that means you are out of the competition and you must leave the stage."
Almost immediately one of the judges walked up and took the gorilla's ribbon. Then another judge took the ribbons from the Lone Ranger and Tonto. More ribbons were removed until only Ernest, Mrs Grainger, Claybourne, Shirley, and the biker were left.
"We are now down to our final contestants," Mr Rumbold called out. "Oh, and it looks like the judges have their final decisions! If you would please come up, Mr Weinstock..."
Max stepped forward and took the microphone. "The winner for best couple is obvious, as there is only Ernest and Sandra Grainger left. Congratulations!"
Everyone applauded the Graingers, who were beaming with joy. Mr Rumbold handed them an envelope and a box that said Toast-O-Matic on the side and featured a photo of a shining red toaster on the sides.
"And now, for best male..." Max announced. "John Klein of Cutting!"
The biker grinned as he received his envelope and toaster from Mr Rumbold before leaving the stage.
"Now, us judges need a little more time to determine which of these two receives best female and best overall," Max told everyone. "If you would, please, model your costumes for us."
Shirley went first. A spotlight was shined down as she stepped forward, turned around, and walked the length of the stage. She tipped her hat to the judges as she passed by and gave a wink to Max. When she finished Claybourne minced forward, much more daintily than usual, gave a couple turns, and pouted for the judges.
"He's got it," James said to Betty, who was sobering up slightly.
"Where is he?" a voice demanded nearby.
Both James and Betty started as Mrs Peacock arrived at the bar. She looked quite livid and was brandishing a rolled-up umbrella at them.
"Where's Stephen?" Mrs Peacock snapped. "You, you're James Lucas, aren't you?"
"Y-yes, how'd you know?" James stammered.
"I received a call from Mrs Slocombe," Mrs Peacock explained. "She said to come find the two of you, that you knew where Stephen was tonight. And it wasn't a poker game with his old Army buddies!"
"Poker game with his Army buddies?" James chuckled. Then when he saw Mrs Peacock's expression he cleared his throat and said, "He's somewhere in the crowd. Shall I retrieve him for you?"
Mrs Peacock started to answer but Max's voice over the speakers caught her by surprise.
"We now have our winners!" he cried. "Best female costume goes to...Shirley Brahms of Ladies Intimate Apparel!"
Shirley smiled and gave Claybourne a friendly hug. He pressed a handkerchief to his mouth and looked as if he were about to begin weeping, which he was wont to do.
"Which leaves us with tonight's winner," Max grinned.
Claybourne squealed with delight and Captain Peacock rushed forward to congratulate him, still unaware of the drag performance he'd been treated to that evening. He kissed Claybourne lightly on the cheek and both posed when a photographer began clicking away.
"STEPHEN PEACOCK!" Mrs Peacock roared over the crowd.
Captain Peacock exhibited a perfect 'deer-caught-in-the-headlamps' look. Just then Max passed an envelope over and said, very loudly into the microphone, "Congratulations to this year's best overall costume winner, Mr Wilberforce Claybourne Humphries of Gents Ready-Made!"
The applause went on for a good five minutes. Claybourne fought back tears of joy and took out his prosthetic teeth. Captain Peacock fainted. Mrs Peacock followed suit. Shirley threw back her head and laughed with James, who was taking more photos with Betty's camera. Poor Betty, however, had passed out at the bar.
"You mean to say that woman," Ernest said once the applause died down, "is not a woman at all? That's our Mr Humphries?"
"Indeed she is," James laughed. "Or really, he is."
"B-b-but she...I mean..." Ernest looked terribly confused and disoriented. "She looked just like a real lady! She walked and talked just like a member of the fairer sex!"
"That's our Mr Humphries," Shirley beamed. She high-fived him as he returned to the bar, looking positively beside himself with mirth.
"A round of drinks on me," he said, and removed his wig to reveal his own short blonde hair. He looked a lot more like his normal self (or as close as he could get). "Mother will be thrilled when I bring this home tonight."
"'Ow are you gonna get it 'ome?" Shirley asked.
"A friend of mine is picking me up in about an hour," Claybourne replied. "She's got a van, we can load it in the back." Their drinks came and he raised his glass. "To the Graingers!" he toasted.
Betty woke up and snatched up her own glass just in time to echo with the others.
"And to Captain Peacock," James said as the floorwalker staggered up to the bar. His hair was sticking up in several directions and he was drenched with sweat. A large bump was visible at his receding hairline, no doubt from Mrs Peacock's umbrella.
"I'm afraid I shan't be able to return home tonight," he huffed as he heaved himself onto a bar stool. Then he saw Claybourne and snapped, "Why didn't you tell me who you were?"
"You never gave me a chance," Claybourne retorted. "As soon as we got on the dance floor it was all I could do to keep your hands off me, you cheeky thing!"
James spat his drink out and soon was bent double with laughter. His wig fell off and Shirley caught it, then traded it for her top hat, which Claybourne donned in place of his own wig. Captain Peacock looked irate, guilty, and bewildered at the same time. Ernest and his wife exchanged a warm embrace and admired their new toaster.
Poor Betty, however, passed out again on the bar and Claybourne had to give her a ride home with his friend.
Fin.

Disclaimer: Are You Being Served? belongs to the BBC, David Croft, and Jeremy Lloyd. This is just a fan-fiction written for fun. No animals were harmed in the making of this fan-fiction, but Aidan the American Bobtail was irritating. No money was or will be made from the creation of this fan-fiction. A bunch of names were ripped off, but in all honesty, does anyone care?