In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s been a serious lack of blogging going on around here over the last month or two, and no, it’s not because I’m still recovering from my stag do, it’s because every year around this time, my life turns into one constant celebration for a few weeks as all the important dates in the calendar materialise at once throughout the months of June and July.
This year however, it’s been even worse as we’ve had to squeeze a stag do, a hen do, a World Cup and my soon to be wedding in there as well.
Normally, the more parties there are going on, the happier I am, but all this fun is seriously affecting my ability to deal with all the serious things going on in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I can still provide a good service for my business, but my plans for World domination in the guitar blog stakes have gone right down the pan.
Don’t worry though, once I recover from the last months celebrations and get this wedding done and dusted, I’ll get back to the real world and stop posting useless stuff like this in my waffle section ..and I’ve not forgotten about those charity busks I’ve been promising either.
So what have I been doing ? Well for a start – on the 10th, 11th and 12th of June I embarked on my stag do, which was a God almighty piss up with a load of my mates to Newquay, which also conveniently covered England’s first World Cup match against America, giving us all even more excuse to commit our braincells to the funny farm.
Warning : Grown men partaking in immature stag do type behaviour follows.
Newquay World Cup Fever
We hired a van, hit Newquay by about 2 on a Friday afternoon and after a few beers whilst checking in at the hotel, headed out for the surf on Fistral Bay. Now for a newbie surfer who’s never actually set foot on a surfboard in his life, it probably wasn’t the best idea to get beered up before my first surf, cause I couldn’t really tell if I was just useless on a surf board or it was just the beer…probably a bit of both.
I used to skate when I was a kid, (who didn’t) and after doing martial arts for a few years and also taking up windsurfuing, you’d think I’d at least have some sense of balance on a surfboard, not a chance after a couple of Stella’s and a can or two.
The best thing when you are out there in the ocean fighting the waves, freezing your nads off, getting wiped out and thrown around like a toy, is the feeling you’re getting your ass kicked by something that is infinitely more powerful than you. It reminded me of those years when I was just a kid and we moved to the sea side. We used to head down to Ringstead beach where the waves were always massive (when you’re 8 anyway) and dive in the white water to get slammed about like some sort of sadistic fairground ride. Then you’d come up for air and get smashed up again for round two.
After a few lung fulls of salt water, a change of clothes and more beer at the beach bar, we headed off down town for our pre-booked Indian.
View from Fistral each bar
It’s always a bit dodgy when you’ve booked a place to eat on the net, but when we got there it was a nice joint and the food was pretty good too. Mind you, by then I was pretty pissed so I couldn’t have told either way.
I would have gone for the vindaloo, but I stuck with the Madras just to give my a*$e a fighting chance for the weekend.
Sauce overload – I hate it when that happens !
You can’t beat a good Indian when you are getting plastered
After stuffing our faces till everyone felt sick, we pissed it up a load more round Newquay and ended up in the hotel bar till 5 in the morning.
You can’t beat that, a hotel that will stay open till the last man standing. By the time we left at 5am it was still going strong.
The bar staff weren’t too bad either, …erm..so my mates said.
After a relentless evening getting totally bladdered on beer, cider, vodka and whatever else was on offer, and unknowingly having my pints spiked with extras to try and knock me out, this was the last picture I took, just before lapsing into a coma.
This picture disturbs me, cause I now know what is going to happen next.
That’s my mate on the phone at six in the morning, taking great pleasure in telling his Mrs. I’ve finally caked out and what he is going to do to me…bastard !
3 hours later…and with a real bad hangover..
Jesus ! Do I look like shit.
After having passed out on the floor of one of my mates’ rooms for a couple of hours and missing breakfast by literally 10 minutes, it’s beer for brecky and down to the local cafe for some swag.
And that’s the moment I realised my mates had shaved my chest while I was unconcious.
Then given one of these and made to carry it around town looking stupid.
She was fit !
A roam around town with the new Mrs. and a bit of fun in the arcades..
with the obligatory ‘who’s the hardest punch bag’ competition.
then back to the hotel to wake up the lazy gits who are still asleep in their clothes.
… I turn my back for 5 minutes and
…not to fussy, my mate J.
Next on the list was more beer, a beach barbeque and more surfing, so with a new member of the crew, there’s only one way to carry your woman.
Following a quick spell in the bag and seeking ever more opportunity to humiliate the stag, out she came again, and after being forced by my mates to carry my new Mrs. around Sainsbury’s while getting stuff for the barbecue, I was then subsequently (and very publicly) kicked out of the store by an angry store matron, who started shouting at me for being obscene and that it was a family store.
Ejected in shame, the guys had to finish the job and once we’d got the rest of the supplies together it was back down the beach for a blistering day of beer, burgers and barbecue.
Fire up the barbie
5 minutes later…voila
..the first of about 20 rounds of some seriously dodgy nosh.
My barbecue is great, it cost me £6 about 10 years ago and has 6 bolts. It gets used about 20 times a year and is in such a state that every time I use it I am determined to chuck it away after, but all my mates persuade me that there is nothing wrong with it, it still does the job as good as the day it was bought and if I threw it away and got a new one, it would look just the same after a couple of uses anyway…so the barbecue lives on… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to ditch the bloody thing.
After another day of surfing, beer and burned burgers, we stashed the stuff in the van and headed off for the World Cup match between England and Germany, which was another good excuse for more excessive behaviour, but as usual England played bloody awfully and it ended in a draw so the match was a total let down.
We’d ditched the camera by then so there’s no more photos apart from a few on my mates’ phones etc, but we hit the bars and clubs which were heaving as usual and even more so due to the World Cup. We ended up at the end of the night in the Walkabout which was heaving with a really good live band playing Chili’s, Muse and loads of other stuff, and when you are that wrecked and been dancing to cheese and club music all night, some real tunes are just what you need to get fired up. They had a really good sound and all their covers sounded pretty much like the originals.
By the time ‘Killing in the Name’ came on at the end of the night the front of the dance floor had turned into a massive mosh pit, which was even funnier when you realised while getting bounced off a bunch of really fat people (into a bunch of really skinny people) that the band wasn’t even playing, they’d all walked off stage and were playing a freaking cd. No one even noticed or cared cause we were all to busy throwing each other about.
It’s funny how when you are in a mosh pit in a club, you can get a head butt in the face, a pint spilled down your trousers and a ripped shirt and you think it’s great fun, where as if the same thing happened 20 feet away at the bar, you’d be in a scrap.
Once they’d kicked everyone out of the club we headed back to the hotel bar eagerly expecting to have another massive all nighter and were all absolutely gutted to find it was totally shut.
Man, it was like getting to a Slayer concert and finding out they’d cancelled and Climbe Fisher were playing instead.
We just couldn’t believe it. The problem was compounded by a distressed girl who appeared from nowhere outside the hotel in a somewhat dishevelled state, claiming she had lost her friends (who apparently were lesbians) because of an argument on a night out and they had left her there and she had no money, no phone and way of getting home.
We were like, “You think you’ve got problems, the hotel bar’s shut.”
Once we had got over the shock of having no more alcohol (and miraculously remembered we had loads more booze stashed from the barbecue), we did our best to try and sort her out. It seemed she was a bit of an impossible situation. We offered her our phones but she had no numbers because her phone was broken, we offered to pay for a taxi but she wouldn’t have it and said she lived something like fifty miles away, she couldn’t call her parents for some reason I can’t remember and didn’t want the police involved. In fact, she was so stuck that it seemed a bit suss.
You know the ‘stranded girl outside the hotel’ gag, where you have no choice but to invite them in and then wake up next morning with all your wallets and jewellery missing.
The thing is, we’re all sound blokes and couldn’t leave her roaming the streets in a drunken state all night, just in case something bad happened to her, and if that was my daughter in a few years time, I’d be worried sick about her so at least she’d be safe with us. The thing is, on her part there was no doubt about it – it was a bloody stupid idea to suddenly meet 7 complete strangers in the street, at 3 am in the morning who had all been drinking heavily for two days and agree to go up to their rooms for a party.
We all knew we were fine and most of us have wives and girlfriends, but to be honest we could have been anyone and she could have been putting herself in serious risk.
…but hey…lucky for her none of us are weirdos.
As soon as we got inside, she thanked us and promptly crashed under the covers in my mates bed (on her own – I might add) and we didn’t hear a peep out of her all night.
Although I think she might have got a bit worried when we pulled out the beers and blow up doll two minutes later and joked there were three holes and we would all take one each.
After realising you can’t joke about that with a lone female crashed in the room, we just hoped she was asleep by then and not heard.
So we drank until morning and at about 7 o’clock, realising there was still almost 2 hours left to breakfast and there was no way I was going to make it, hit the deck again on my mates’ floor.
Jamie had caked out half hour earlier and it took a lot to keep my inner demons at bay and not to take my revenge on him for the night before. To be honest, I was happy that I hadn’t been strapped naked to a lamp post and left there so after thinking about it some more, I decided to let him off.
Waking again 30 minutes after breakfast and missing it for the second time, I was gutted and realised that over the last two days, I had not slept in my own bed even once and had missed breakfast on both days, what a waste of £80, I might as well have kipped in the van.
My other mate who never sleeps no matter how smashed he gets, was still up and had been all night, just in case anything went missing. Apparently she had awoken and left half an hour before with simply a polite ‘Thank you’.
Even more brain dead and all with double hangovers, we got back our deposits, headed out for breakfast around town, bought some prezzies for the misseses and headed home by the afternoon – another surfing session for me after two days on the piss was just not going to happen.
We thought we’d been pretty good and not got into too much trouble over the weekend, until my fiance discovered the photos of the girl asleep in one of our beds and a few of the hotel barmaids. Even though the camera had been passed around all night and I hadn’t actually taken them, it didn’t go down too well I can tell you. The boys then spent the next few days trying to explain our way out of it as one by one the w.a.g.s got wind of the girl in the hotel room and put us all through the Spanish inquisition, wondering what went on and what else we hadn’t told them about.
I swear – we we’re innocent and just helped out someone who needed a safe place for the night. What would you have done ?
With that over and a couple of days recovery, the stag do was then followed up over the next 3 weeks by the rest of the World Cup, Father’s day, more barbecues, my Mrs’ hen weekend, my birthday, my fiance’s birthday, the Weymouth Seafood and Music festival and next is my wedding, which is happening in a couple of days…. I think I’d better get on and write my speech, or I’m going to be in deep s#*t.
If anyone’s interested, I’ll post some pics when it’s all over.
Take it easy !