:: sigh :: I am the Best Man at a very close mate's wedding, and I'm currently organising the Stag Night. Now, my philosophy on Stag Nights is controversial but simple in that most of 'em are shite. The best ones are like commando raids; a small group of like-minded and determined warriors setting out to achieve a clearly defined objective with steely determination with a plan "B" should first contact send everything wobbly. It was with this in mind that I thumbed through the legendary Vegitusii Folio Orgiastici Diabolicus, the little black book of vile intelligence that only I can truly understand should one wish to truly enjoy the Metropolis the way it is meant to be enjoyed. And what does the fcuking stag, a man once noted for his martial prowess, outstanding feats of derring-do in HM forces and ability to defeat legions of vestal virgins with his beef bayonet want to do? Lunch "at his club" (FFS I'm from Sarf Lahndun) then some golf. The sport for Dead People. I had something far more prosaic in mind. What should I do? Pander to one of my oldest friends tragic descent into early middle age or delve into the spuff-stained pages of my folio? It's not like his future missus likes me anyway... V!