Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by FredWest, Jul 7, 2009.

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  1. Just had a discussion at work about blagging, one guy's just been to Glastonbury and managed the following:

    A. Blagged into the VIP Area
    B. Blagged 2 mates into the festival
    C. Blagged himself into the workers party at the end

    Which reminded me of a blag at York Races a few years ago on a Stag Do, we all went suited and booted, bit of a warm day, so I threw my jacket into the cloakroom, fancied having a watch from the VIP area, went to walk past the security guy, who asked me for my pass, obviously I'm in suit, minus jacket, proceed to tell the guy that my pass is on my jacket which is in the VIP area with the frau, and the guys who are with me are my guests, voila, in you go sirs

    Not that much of an impressive blag, but it'll do me.
  2. I spoke to a blagger who had off a Cash in Transit Vehicle. Wouldn't give me any tips though :(
  3. Oh joy, this will be the party atteneded by the scruffy cnuts who picked up all my sh1t at the other stage then? and spent days mucking out thoses fuking awful bogs!!!

    I did blag at glasto this year some stooodent priced beer, 2.50 a pint rather than 3.50 a pint without a NUS card, I also blagged 2 days on the sick with a spot of diarrhoea and vomiting, for free...
  4. last year I took part in a "monopoly run" around london with the explorers (older wing of scouts)
    one of the opposing teams managed to blag thier way on to the london eye for free.
    and even more impressive was annother team who managed to blag a tour of downing street (guided by a copper of course)
  5. Some years ago when we were younger, the present Mrs Brummie and me were visiting her mate in Chichester. On the saturday night we blagged ourselves into a wedding reception, and to put the tophat on it, we won a big basket of fruit in the raffle. We had to leave soon after, the natives were getting restless and giving us the evil eye.
  6. BrunoNoMedals

    BrunoNoMedals LE Reviewer

    Old mate of mine new a (very nice) bird whose family owned a hotel in Stockport (joy); her grandad was one Jack Trickett, apparently a semi-famous boxing promoter by British standards (although I'd never heard of him).

    When Tyson was fighting Lewis, back in about 2002 or whenever it was, we'd been trying to find somewhere to watch it for days. With the obvious boxing family background, her hotel was showing it and she invited us down. Bearing in mind it was on at about 0400h, and we'd started in the pub about 2000h, I was expecting a long, expensive night.

    When we arrived we found the place was empty bar a wedding reception for one of their family members (a particularly attractive young brunette lady). Since we were totally out of place, our mate introduced us to mum and dad and then to the bride - just to make sure we were ok to be there and all that. Given everyone was already mullered, they were in full bezzer mode and accepted us with open arms. At this point, the blagging commenced.

    By the end of the night we'd managed:

    1. Free Pay-TV coverage of the fight (obviously... :roll: );
    2. Easily 80% of our wobbly paid for by various uncles and fathers, and handed over gratis by our mate working behind the bar;
    3. Shitloads of tabs from same;
    4. One of the hotel's rooms for the night;
    5. All we could eat from the buffet (on pain of death. As the bride put it: "My dad's paid a bleeding fortune for all this, and if it doesn't all get eaten I'm blaming you two. Now grab that platter of chicken legs and get stuck in.");
    6. Some fairly good quality Dutch skunk from one of the cousins.

    At one point I swear my mate was also going to blag ten minutes on the bride, but luckily I noticed him getting friendly with her at the bar before any of the family did and managed to put a stop to it before we got our arrses handed to us. On this plus side, it was at this point that we were invited to demolish the buffet.

    In the end we didn't need the free room, since we didn't finish until 0600h and then the barmaid just drove us home. All in all, that was probably my most successful blag. It even beat the night I had in Swindon last year where we chatted up the two barmaids in Revolution (the only two remotely good-looking women in Swindon) and got free shots for about two hours.