My stag begins on Saturday 11th October, allowing a full fourteen days for recovery. Whilst this will give enough time for excess alcohol to leave the body, it is insufficient time to recover from – a) one or more shaved eyebrows, b) tattoo in an unconcealed area, c) broken limbs d) broken hearts e) criminal record for drunken disorderly, although magistrates tend not to sit at the weekend.
There are now twenty chaps confirming their attendance. Some of whom did not make it to the wedding invite list. My fiancé is aghast that I could contemplate inviting someone to the stag but not the wedding. The conversation went something like this –
“Who is this on your stag list – someone called ‘FB’?”
“FB? That’s Fat Bloke. His real name is John.”
“I can’t see a John on the wedding list proper.”
“You won’t, he not on it.”
“He’s not coming the wedding?”
“So what did you say?”
“I said, ‘Do you want to come on my Stag?'”
“What did he say?”
He said ok.”
“But did he not ask if he was coming the wedding?
“And what did you say?
“I said, ‘No'”
“Did he not mind?
“Dunno, didn’t ask”
“I’d be offended,”
“You’re not Fat Bloke. And amen to that, darling.”
Sarah sat for a moment and thought about inviting a girlfriend to her Hen Night but not her wedding. She gave a little shudder, then went back to bottling her wedding favour jelly beans
We are starting at the smoke house restaurant on Mathew Street, then moving onto the bars and clubs surrounding the home of the famous pop combo that shook the world – that’s right, Tony Jackson and the Vibrations