"But what are you meant to be?"
"I am a black cat."
"Where are your ears?"
"They fell off."
"Where's your tail?"
"I haven't got one."
I was beginning to sense some doubt and felt obliged to point out I had actually put a bit of effort into my outfit.
"I did stick some wicked claws onto my gloves."
They glanced, tellingly, at my bare hands.
"I had to take them off though. It was too hazardous when I went to the toilet. I've got a mask. I only took it off for a moment as it made my face so hot. It's got whiskers and everything."
Some people have no imagination. I shrugged and sipped more wine. As far as I was concerned, I was Catwoman.