Drunken Girls


For those of you that follow my twitter, I’ve been out with the boys tonight. Last night of session with the rugby boys before my baby arrives.

Now I hate to blow my own trumpet, but I can handle my booze. It’s midnight, I’ve got my captain off his face due to a little game we played, but I’m fine. I’m currently waiting for a taxi and watching people.

Now watching people is a past time of mine, but I’ve never really watched drunk girls when I’ve been sober(ish). Its really quite embarrassing. These young girls are dressed up with everything hanging out and they can hardly walk!!

I’ve just seen one girl CARRYING her friend down the road. What must their parents think?!? This may sound really cruel, but I can see how some girls get attacked and things.

God, I’m sounding REALLY old now…..

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Photo’s from Berlin


If you are a regular reader of my blog (and I do hope so of you out there would be), you’ll know I was married last year and ventured off to Berlin for my stag weekend. There were photos taken on this weekend and, after a long censoring process so as not to reveal any secrets of the Stag (as per Law of the Stag article 1) I’ve finally managed to get some up here.

Apologies for the quality of some of them as they were on camera phones and being handled by EXTREMELY drunken bums:

Bratislava Stag Do


Well, I did mention in my early blog about my step-dad’s stag party to Bratislava. Although it was a few years ago now, I feel it only right and proper to give it a good airing once in a while and share it with you good folks.

I had arranged the whole thing (my brother was best man, but he is shit and things like that, so I offered to sort it). As I’ve mentioned before, I like to think of myself as open-minded and a bit of a traveller, so I opted for Bratislava, Slovakia.

The flights were booked, hotel arranged and transfer from Vienna airport (as it was cheaper to fly there than direct) to the hotel and back.

Things started in the curryhouse on the Thursday night with copious amount of Tiger beer being consumed. The flight out wasn’t too bad, although I did hit a rough patch at one point in which the stewardess thought I was going to pass out.

We landed and were met by our tour guide (christ knows her name) and our driver. We had about an hour or so’s drive, so we all settled in. It was arranged that the first night we’d be taken out by our tour guide and shown the watering holes. By the time we’d got to the hotel, it was only about 11 am. We checked into our hotel, which seemed ok from the outside, and ventured up the 10 floors to our rooms. FUCK ME! The place was a dive!! You flushed the toilet and water came up the bath plug, the beds looked like reminants from Soviet Mother Russia and there was a hole in the wall which looked remarkably like a bullet hole! We wiped our feet on the way out so as not to carry any shit onto the street!

Even though the hotel was a dive, it was pretty well located. We had a stroll around the main square (well, between the bars and restaurants anyway) and topped up on the previous nights beer. Come the evening, we got changed and met our tour guide. She took us to all these bars and clubs and ensured we tried all the local drink. It was then decided that we should sample some of the local “hospitality”. So we ended up in this strip bar. Dear, dear me…… One of the group was so pissed he had a private lap dance, came out, then went back in for another 5 minutes later because he couldn’t remember what she looked like. Enough said me thinks.

The following morning we were up and at ’em pretty early, with vodka and redbulls being ordered in prelude to breakfast. The rest of the day was sat around the main square as the weather was gorgeous! I have to say, we all came back with whiplash as the women in Bratislava are STUNNING. Everywhere we looked, another perfect specimen walked on by. I think all the head turning and jaw dropping was the only thing keeping us sober.

The evening came on and we had heard about this other strip bar the previous night, so decided to check it out. it only being about 7.30, we were the first ones in there. As expected, drinks weren’t cheap, but the women plentiful. They came over and asked us to buy them drinks. We told them politely no and we’re just watching. On this note, a big burly doorman comes over and orders we buy the girls drinks. Again, we say no. He then wanders over, whispers something to his mate, who picks up the phone.

Smelling something fishy, we decide it’s best to leave. As we walk out, 3 more doorman come up the stairs past us. Things were getting out of hand. We made it to the street and started walking away. A car then pulls up along side us asking if we want a lift. We say no but he doesn’t leave us alone. We look back and see the doorman coming out of the club and start following us. It was then sensibility took over….. WE RAN!!! I’ve never run so fast!! We managed to lose them, but I honestly wonder if we’d have ended up being whacked by the Slovakian mafia that night!!

We go back to the main square and bump into an Irish stag party in one of the bars. We start drinking with them and all is going well, until a “undercover” policeman decideds he doesn’t like one of the Irish guys. Then the uniformed boys turned up with batons waving and it all kicks off!! We beat a hasty retreat back to one of the Irish guys hotels to continue the drinking in peace. We get a beer in when some of his mates come down from their rooms. On hearing what had happened minutes ago, one of them declares he was going to get his gun and “shoot them in the fucking head”. We called it a night at this point.

So, to sum up, we were staying at a hotel built and furnished by Stalin himself, complete with complimentary bullet holes, had the Slovakian Mafia chase us round half the city, nearly had our heads battered in by the police and then run into an IRA hit squad on a binge. There are more stories from this truly AMAZING weekend, but I can’t write about them, incase this falls into the wrong hands……..

Definitely not a weekend I will forget in a hurry!!

The Wedding!


The day finally came. The big day! I had been panicing all week as the weather report was for rain! Luckily, the sun shone through and all was nice and warm that day.

I finished work on the Friday about 7. My mum and a few of my family were staying at the hotel I work in, so I met them in the bar. We had a drink (which was well needed after the shity day I’d had) then went over to the venue for the reception to decorate. This got a little awkward as my dad and his side of the family were also there and my mum and dad have never got on since seperating years ago. Luckily, they were polite and tolerant, so things went smoothly.

My best man was my best friend Wigg (Heir Vigg). We finally got out of the reception about 9 and moved to the hotel we were staying in, coincidentally located right in the middle of the bars and clubs in town! Needless to say we stumbled in about 2am, so still nice and early, with kebab in hand.

I woke up the next morning feeling rough as shit. A bloody mary and a few pints later, I felt better, although writing a speech on a hang over wasn’t such a good idea.

We got dressed and walked over to the church. It was lovely. So many people there. Faces I hadn’t seen in ages, people coming from all over the country and some even from Canada, my brother in law passing round the hip flask with some slow gin in it. Then we filled into the church and it started. She looked stunning!! Funnily, I had no nerves whatsoever!

Everyone was milling around outside afterwards while pictures were taken. We managed to move them all off and we were soon in our car on the way to the reception. As Carla doesn’t drink Champagne, I had to finish the bottle myself………

We had all the obligitory photos, then sat down for a meal. Everyone commented on how good the food was. Then came the speeches. Carla’s dad was terrified, said about ten words (literally) then sat down. Up I pop. I gave a sterling speech! Very proud of myself considering it was wrote that morning with a hang over. I mentioned everyone, got everything in, comments on how good she looked blah blah blah. Perfect! Wigg was worrying about his all day, but gave a brilliant show. Even my brother, who is normally quite critical of Wigg, said how great it was.

Then the evening came round, the drinks started flowing some more and my memory fades a little. Suffice to say, I was the last one ot leave the bar about 3am for the marital bed. Surprisingly, the wedding was consumated and no brewers droop occured!!

Bring on Bali!!

Berlin Stag Weekend


What a weekend!! Some serious drinking was involved, quite a bit of cash got flashed about and spent, several calls on the porcelein phone were made and one cracking weekend was had!!

The merryment started Thursday evening. Our flight was at 6am on the Friday, so beer was being drunk on the Thursday night. Needless to say, I had 1 hours sleep before the taxi arrived to take us to Stanstead. This was fine as on the way, we had a crate of Tiger beer to sup. We stopped to collect my brother and best-man and continued on the journey. We were all given the obligatory Hats and Sunglasses to accompany our suits, however the hats were made of plastic and were so uncomfortable!!

We landed in Berlin early doors and proceeded to drink. We marched up to the Brandenburg gate as we were told by my brother in law that all the bars were up this direction. He lied simply so he could go sight seeing!! By this point, all 9 of us were busting for the toilet. Serveral went to various shops and cafe’s, but 4 of us decided to use a public toilet cubicle. We only had 1 Eruo between us. So we crossed swords…… Someone lent against the door button…..  Two little old lady’s had the shock of their lives as 4 English drunken bums were crossing swords in front of them……..

The rest of the night passed in a drunken blur. To our astonishment, there were “lady’s of the night” everywhere!! Very attractive they were too. 50 euros for quicky in the park, 80 euros for comfortable fuck in their flat and one even suggested she would shit on us!! My best man spent most of the night outside one of the bars talking to one of the lady’s. This pisssed her off as he wasn’t actually going to pay, but felt big that he was “chatting up” a prostitute. He gave up in the end when she threatened to slit his throat if he didn’t leave her alone….. We called it a night pretty much after this (26 hours straight on the lash will make you tired). At some point during the night, my mum’s husband managed to find himself out the front of the hotel in nothing but his underpants….. No more questions were asked…..

Following morning half of us were up bright and breezy at about 8.30 am and went to a Mexican restaurant for breakfast. The only reason we stopped here was because we saw they did cooked breakfasts and tequila was about the only thing that would save us! We sat there in the cooking sun for  the next 9 hours and proceeded to drink them out of Gold Tequila, pick up several people who decided to sit with us and drink, have some guy offer to sell us his daughter (only a joke of course) and spend over 600 euros. During this time, I was dressed in a stripey outfit ala convict style with handcuffs.

We decided to move on after this and walked off in, what we thought, was the general direction of the bars we had found the previous night. We passed the Holocaust memorial (dressed how I was didn’t seem evry appropriate!), Bugatti show room (drooling over the Veyron) and after an hours walk, found the bars.

Again, the night passed in a drunken blur. My dad ended up asleep in a chair at some restaurant by about 7, ended up going home early doors. We went to several bars/clubs/drinking establishments before the beer scooter came to collect us. We went back to the hotel, where we had a few nightcaps before turning in.

The flight home was awful. I was throwing up left right and centre and Ryanair doesn’t believe in spacious toilet facilities. As we landed, I had to make a mad dash for the toilet. Most people could see I was in trouble and graciously moved out of my way. Except one German woman who obviously wanted to be first of the plane. So I proceeded to hold my hand over my mouth, retch a few times and then breath on her. She soon moved!

All in all, it was a cracking weekend. More stories and events took place, but as my previous post explains: WHAT GOES ON STAG, STAYS ON STAG

Law of the Stag


As some of you may be aware, I’m getting married in little over 3 weeks. The nerves haven’t kicked in yet, but I’m sure they will as the reality of it all set’s in.

How ever, this does mean  get to have (another) stag do. Only this time, I’m extending it to a weekend and relocating the party out of Blighty…….. and to Berlin!

Now every time I say this to people, they always ask: Why Berlin? To which I reply: Why not? For a start, can you argue with German beer in those huge glass tankards of theirs served by buxom serving wench’s? Or the fact that the night life in Berlin is supposed to be out of this world with techno clubs on every corner (not that techno is my bag, but always looks like a laugh on the tele). Either way, I have this thing about going to different locations and different cultures. Every stag nowadays goes to Prague or Barcelona or Ibiza. I did Bratislava a few years back for my mum’s husbands stag (which is another blog in itself involving the mafia, strippers and a gun shot hole in the hotel room!) and that was great, so I couldn’t go along those sort of lines. Berlin was almost an obvious choice.

Now I’ve promised my significant other that I wouldn’t venture near any strippers. This is going to be an awkward thing to achieve, but I will certainly try my best, as I’m not a liar. However, Law of the Stag Section 1 paragraph 1, does state:

WHAT GOES ON STAG, STAYS ON STAG

To be honest, with the group I’m going with, we’re starting the proceedings at about 3 Friday morning and won’t stop until Sunday night. We’ll probably be to pissed to make much of strippers. If any pictures make it back, I’ll post a few up here and tell some stories (if any are suitable of course!)

Marylin Monroe Gets Man-Flu


It’s been a while since I last posted (No excuses really as I now have the app on my iPhone that lets me access, post and read my blog!) so I thought I’d be a typical man and tell you all how rough I’m feeling today.

I went out last Friday for my stag do with the rugby boys (proper stag weekend to Berlin is coming up). As I’m sure you would have gathered, they got me extremely drunk (although a few comments were made at how much I put away and how well I did) and dressed me as Marylin Monroe with green fairy wings. This was fine while we were in the rugby club. However, come leaving the club for the town centre, the weather got decidedly colder and wearing a thin dress and thong and not much else leaves you VERY cold.

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Suffice to say, I don’t remember much of the night and Sunday and Monday was a write off. Tuesday comes and I’m sniffling and snorting and feeling like death warmed up.

I’m now sat at work, coughing my right lung up, nose feels like the blackwall tunnel at rush hour and my head feels like it’s been stamped on. Women moan about child birth, they should try man-flu!!