Works well until…Tape a handcuff key, credit card and twenty quid note to the inside of your thigh next to your nut sack.
Sounds like a pretty tame run ashore.So way back, 1986 to be precise, I was in Germany at my first unit, I’d proposed to the soon to be Mrs. MHT the previous year and it was now 14 months on, the plan was to have two stag nights, one in Germany for mates that couldn’t make the wedding and one back in Blighty.
The venue for Keime Junggesellenabschied was Koo’s nightclub in Lippstadt, 18 bars under one roof.
The night started off quiet enough, round after round being purchased and drunk, lots of banter and piss taking, then someone suggested shots and so it began, the next 5 hours went by in a flash and memories are hazy, but the low lights were, being dragged up on the DJ’s stage and jumping into the crowd, being dropped on my head whilst crowd surfing, being handcuffed to a dwarf German woman, getting a blow job from said dwarf on the dance floor, being thrown out by the bouncers for lewd behaviour on the dance floor, blagging my way back in, sitting on a mates shoulders who happened to be 7’2” tall whilst singing 99 luft balloon. Dracula’s Blood Snaps, Apple Korn, Jäegermeister shots, vodka shots, Gorilla Snot shots, shot after shot after shot followed, I was going down fast, finally carried out into the car park shoulder high I was officially fooked!
Again the low lights of the car park passed in a flash, standing on the bonnet of a Mk3 Taunus and pissing on the windscreen whilst a mate forced the windscreen wipers backwards and forwards, two mates, one with his arm in plaster, the other with a leg in plaster fighting over who was going to shag a German girl who had long since left with her boyfriend, nearly drowning in a puddle because I couldn’t lift my head up high enough whilst laying on the ground, starting a fight with a group of German guys because they took offence to being sung at, finally at least 10 Polizei cars turning up, being hit by a coppers baton, finally waking up in a cell only to be told to get out as we were taking up too many cells.
The stag night back in Blighty was tame in comparison but the low lights were being handcuffed to a beer pump at closing time, seeing my future mother-in-law and my own mother commandeer a bus on the girls hen night and turn up at the pub we were in on the bus, with the bride and bridesmaids, being dragged up the road on a skateboard by a mates car, and the night ended with the police being called because my best man refused to accept that last orders meant we couldn’t drink anymore in that pub, hence the handcuffs and police involvement!
It couldn’t have hurt though as I’ve been married 35 years.
Makes yew proud to be British doesn't itHow did I ever forget to include this. Not my stag do, but this is a belter.
In Blackpool during world cup 2000 (Japan and lots of early kick offs so lots of all day drinking).
Anyways, in Wetherspoons (I know, I know) around lunch time when in comes a stag do with a lad cellophane wrapped to an army stretcher. They'd prop him up against the wall and feed him drinks. They also had cut a hole where his knob was so he could take a piss (they bought a bucket for this).
At the same time, in comes hen party from Hull. One of the 'hens', blasted after drinking from 7am due to the football, decides to give old matey attached to the stretcher a blow job in the middle of Wetherspoons (this is lunchtime and people are eating). Matey blows his load onto floor.
Wetherspoons cleaners gets the mop, cleans up ****, matey gets taken out on the stretcher with his knob waving around to the next pub.
"Cavuman, who was too ill to notice, remained unsteady during the short ceremony and when asked to exchange vows, began to recite names and addresses of people who also used the stuff."November 29, 1969. Atlanta, Georgia. Awoke with the proverbial hangover from Hell. Just before the Limo arrived to transport me to the church (on time), my dear friend from Connecticut who'd flown in for the occasion, strode into my bedroom and whipped out a pipe loaded with a gram of opiated hashish! We smoked all of it.
Dudes and Friends, I have, like, never ever been that stoned - before or since! I stood beside my bride-to-be at the altar, watching her metamorphose from a lovely lady to one of those independently-swiveling-eyes chameleons. The priest stood before us, his arrowed tail whipping about as red horns erupted from his head. Jesus stepped down from His crucifix and was doing gymnastics on the altar, juggling communion wafers and gulping Holy wine.
Then the presiding officiate said those magic words:"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully-wedded wife, blobbitta, blobbitta..." Total BUZZKILL! I sobered up and took the vows/incoming.
Epilogue: The marriage lasted twelve years, produced two fine children, and I never touched hash again!