Stags and Hens


As noted a good few times in the last couple of months it is wedding season for Jester and the lady friend. We have had, in 2011, four weddings to attend since the start of the year. As everyone knows weddings usually, not always but more often than not, have a stag do or hen party attached to them. Sometimes more than one.

Thank you Mr. Cox...Vegas!

So as rapidly as your weekends disappear due to a wedding requiring your attendance there is at least one other weekend in the lead up to the wedding that will also vanish from your free time.

Last Saturday was just such a weekend.

Being a Teetotaller since 3.01 a.m. Jan 5th 1983 people often wonder why do I even go to Stags. No drinking. No requirement to get blotted and forget the entire event. Having to put up with people getting progressively drunker as I remain forever sober. Why bother to attend.

Thankfully I have many skills at my disposal. First of all I have social skills and can talk with anybody until Old Nick comes to collect my soul. I can get drunk-by-osmosis, matching the "wit" of the drinkers as the night goes on. If anything that is an easy task since it requires less and less thinking to make something funny to a non-sober person :D. Also I go because I've been invited to go and good manners cost nothing. Besides, I've been doing this non-drinking thing long enough and still meet up regularly with people in a pub for a few "scoops". I think I am well rounded enough to interact with people regardless of how well they are able to drive by nights end.

Most of the Stags I have been on of late, however, have been brilliant for one simple reason: They had stuff to entertain everyone regardless of how much drinking was going on. As such the Stag at the weekend was in Shelbourne Park Dog Race Course.

I couldn't pick a winner from the dogs if you paid me, but the craic that can be had as you shout "Put your back into it you mangy bitch!" while in public, without being judged by those around you (mainly because they chanting the same song with you) is great. Even if the one dog that I did manage to put money on won the race but apparently it was a "dead heat" and resulted in no real profit, the night was still enjoyable.

Sadly the Stag in question had to return home due to some dietary health issues that were becoming worse as the night went on. Calling an end to the proceedings.

Now, I'm a big brother and my two younger siblings, along with the boyfriend of my lil sister, were all out at this do as well. So being the big brother I offered all a lift home as the night wasn't going to continue sans-Stag.

The only flaw in this otherwise flawless plan was that we had forgotten that our destination had a Hen party in full swing that night.

We literally stepped into the clucking beak of insanity, more or less voluntarily.

Films like "The Hangover" paint Stag dos as random acts of chaos wrapped up in madness sprinkled over a time period with temporary leave of one's senses.

They pale in comparison to a Hen party.

These are things no male should be present at for fear of loosing his mind.

Such debauchery from a gaggle of drunken women. I may have Vietnam-style flashbacks for years to come. All I can say is next time I do a drive-by drop-off, firing the younger sibling towards the house and letting him hope for the best.

But all in good fun right? Right? Now if you'll excuse me I have an appointment with a shrink to talk me through the ordeal :|.


Mr. Tea | Mon, 20 Jun 11 23:03:30 +0100

Sounds horrifying man. Amateur mistake.....but blood-curdling none-the-less!

blue_jester | Tue, 21 Jun 11 09:02:17 +0100

I seen things Mr. Tea.

Things you wouldn't believe (said in a terrified whisper that you can manage in text format).

Mr. Tea | Wed, 22 Jun 11 00:21:29 +0100

Was it boobs?

I reckon it was boobs.

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