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Stag-Do Shithousery


Accident Prone
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Posted (edited)

I love a good stag-do story. Here's a tale of shithousery that was inflicted upon myself during my stag in 2019.

The stag destination was Berlin for a few days in the summer. One mate was driving there early (he hates flying and will drive/sail whenever he can instead of flying) so he was hauling our bags there to dodge all the luggage fees and make our trip easier, with plans to meet in the Berlin airport car park and go from there. He came to my house a few days beforehand, took my bags and left. Fantastic, I thought. Great plan.

The day of the flight, the rest of us meet in a pub in town. I had a messenger bag with me for my wallet, phone and passport, but everything else (including chargers, headphones, a grooming kit, hangover cures, most of my travel cash, countless pairs of boxers, socks, shirts, and jeans) were with the mate who was driving. One by one, all the stag attendees started arriving WITH their luggage. We're talking multiple bags for a long, messy weekend. They played it off with various excuses but a sinking feeling started to hit. I put it off as mere pre-stag nerves.

Then the shit started rolling downhill. The lads, lovely fellas y'see, had handmade me a pink denim tux with unicorns and rainbows sewn on, with tons of glitter and gems for added effect, for me to wear on the plane! A great start, as I'm waltzing my way through the pub, then the airport, then the plane, then Belgium airport looking like I was heading to a Brony convention.

So we fly out, land in Berlin and meet my driving mate in the car park. I ask for my bags so I can dump my passport. A huge grin grows on his face. He hasn't got my bags. Here I am in a busy Berlin airport, looking like the Milky Bar Kid's nonce uncle, and I've just found out that I haven't got any clothes, essentials or wash gear. I was PISSED. Everyone laughed.

We hop in his car and drive to the hostel and I am raging in the back seat. I've never been this angry in my life. My mate tells this story of the car breaking down and having to lighten the load by leaving my bags at the side of a road. Everyone is having a good time, except myself who is FUCKING PISSED. I'm furiously texting my fiance, "Fuck this bullshit! I'm coming home!". We arrive and I'm pacing in the hostel lobby, having a mini-panic attack. One of my mates walks over, he's the sweetest lad who ever walked the Earth. He leans in and says, "Don't worry about your bags, they're actually in the boot". Evil fucking genius.

I calm down a little. "I'll play along, they'll hand me my bag later & we'll all have a right laugh. Sorted". Twenty minutes later, my wife-to-be messages me. She's called up the driver mate's missus. She has confirmed that my bag is sat in his house, on his kitchen table, back in jolly old England. It's a fucking nightmare. I'm full-on bellowing in the lobby now. I'm sat in a peado's Canadian tuxedo in a foreign country with no cash or clothes or essentials. In my head, I was fucked.

After I had settled down over several pints, we all exchanged hugs & kisses and I finally accepted my grim fate. I still have no bags though. I had to wear that pink tux everywhere for three days (with the exception of night two, where they stuck me in a Chyna costume for a local wrestling show that Doug fucking Williams was on). They bought me new underwear for the trip (albeit women's underwear), which meant I walked around like I had haemorrhoids.

Great shithousery.

Edited by Accident Prone
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You'd have loved being a wrestler in the 80's and 90's. I on the other hand would not have calmed down and I think would have stormed off. 

All my stag do's were much tamer then that. Mine was a Tinky Winky Teletubby costume which I had to wear the whole night. Joke was on them, I love the colour purple. We got created for the stag of my best mate. Bought him Medium sized clothes to wear (he was an XL) and bought two squares of Red Carpet which we no more nailed a pair of his shoes on to as one of his requests was he wanted to walk a red carpet. 

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Posted (edited)

That sounds horrendous, @Accident Prone. I'm glad you can laugh about it, because I'd have hated the whole experience and just gone home at the first sign of that kind of behaviour. I'm happy I didn't bother with anything stag related.

Edited by HarmonicGenerator
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Many UK stag-do's just sound like doing the nastiness shit imaginable and then weirdly going "I love you mate, I'm made up for your wedding with Stace...sorry about the broken leg, face tattoo and police record for indecency. Bit of a giggle tho weren't it?"

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Yeah, I'm really glad that I stuck through the first couple hours of rage, because it's a story that I love to tell now (there's a ton more detail in the full version of events too, including myself holding up the flight for ten minutes because I had the shits in the cabin toilet). I've still got the pink tux, covered in permeant marker scrawlings, that weaves the tale of the weekend. 

1 hour ago, Hannibal Scorch said:

All my stag do's were much tamer then that. Mine was a Tinky Winky Teletubby costume which I had to wear the whole night. Joke was on them, I love the colour purple. We got created for the stag of my best mate. Bought him Medium sized clothes to wear (he was an XL) and bought two squares of Red Carpet which we no more nailed a pair of his shoes on to as one of his requests was he wanted to walk a red carpet. 

Ha, that's great stuff!

11 minutes ago, neil said:

Many UK stag-do's just sound like doing the nastiness shit imaginable and then weirdly going "I love you mate, I'm made up for your wedding with Stace...sorry about the broken leg, face tattoo and police record for indecency. Bit of a giggle tho weren't it?"

The yanks seem to have a much better approach to it, where the Bachelor is treated like a king and it's all about friendship, love, happy memories and all that bollocks.

The one thing that me and my friends do to offset the typical UK stag style of humiliation, is making sure the stag never pays for anything. I had two stag-dos, and never paid a penny across both of them. Almost makes up the degradation.

Almost.

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Posted (edited)

I distinctly remember the moment me and my closest 5 were on a visit to London where 1 of them was living at the time.

We sat in a pub somewhere on the fringes of Camden and witnessed stag-do shenanigans, with some poor cunt dressed up as something ridiculous.

We all rolled our eyes and swore to just go out and have a good time that everyone would enjoy. We had belting times, no looking over shoulders for 'pranks' all evening, no stupid fucking costumes, no forcing of drinks down some poor sods throats even though they're clearly suffering from alcohol poisoning.

Edited by Teedy Kay
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I’m so glad I have decent mates who aren’t into “banter” and didn’t make me dress up, or wear matching t-shirts, or get a stripper, or try to get me black out drunk “for a laugh” on my stag do. That kind of stuff can be put into a cannon and shot into the fucking sun. It seems like the worst kind of forced fun. 
 

We just did stuff that was actually fun for everyone - as it’s meant to be. Went to watch some stand up then went round some pubs for some pints. 
 

I never trust people that love stag dos. 

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Posted (edited)

I think there's lines and layers to stag-dos. I can't be doing with strippers and lap dancing clubs and any shit where the stag is forced to drink after they've clearly had enough. I've been on a few where there's been a gentleman's club in the schedule and I've always ducked out beforehand. Costumes, japes, pranks and making sure the stag doesn't pay for anything, that's the balance me and my circle have.

When in Prague for my mate's stag (the worst he had to put up with was dressing up as Mrs Doyle for a pub crawl), we were in Burger King for some lunch, and we watched in bemusement/horror as this massive UK stag group came tumbling down the street. Must've been twenty of them, all with matching tshirts and nicknames on the bag like "CLIT MUNCHA" and "DICK HAMMER", in broad daylight. They took over the outside patio of this pub, where one of them fainted and the other guys took turns wapping their nutsacks across his face. At lunch time.

I hope I've not painted myself and my friends as those sort of "LADS LADS LADS, SHOW US YOUR TITS LUV, LADS LADS LADS" hooligans, as it's quite the opposite. Probably a bad idea for a thread, to be honest.

Edited by Accident Prone
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Generally done the old "book some sort of house in the middle of nowhere" which contains all the obnoxiousness and is generally more fun

 

Did go on one stag do in Bratislava where whilst having the standard 8am pint at Stansted Airport the best man misjudged a fart (wasn't actually drunk or anything). He quietly went off to the toilet and texted us to say he needed the toilet and we should go board.  Due to the queue in the toilets and his embarassment at his state it took him a fair amount of time to get cleaned, enough time that the flight had left.

So we land in Bratistlava without the one person who knows where we're going etc. He's on route to a different airport to get the next available flight. He sends us the number for the accomadation, the number looks suspiciously english. After phoning it and discovering it to be a kebab shop in Nottingham we get back in touch. He eventually find the correct number for the accomadation, we eventually get there. It's a large boat. We put all our stuff in the area we're sleeping in. Start having a few drinks on deck. Shortly the staff appear in a panic as the boat has sprung a leak. Thankfully it's not sinking or anything but a lot of our stuff is getting extremely wet. Chaotic rearrangement of beds and possessions ensue

After those first few hours where I started to believe I was in a shit lads comedy film everything mostly chilled out, but yeah - a notable start to a stag.

Edited by organizedkaos
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I think we need to use these two blokes opinions as a poll.

I’ve been on one stag do and it was the most boring night of my life. Tbf, the stag is a massive bore himself and barely spoke to anyone. He also picked the worst night to have it. A Saturday night in Twickenham during the rugby World Cup after Australia played Wales there. We just about found somewhere that wasn’t extremely packed. I didn’t want a wild night of strippers and dressing him up and humiliating him, but I wanted to go one better than the library experience. It was neither uncouth or mint. 

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My worst stag do experience was going back to our apartment we'd rented for the weekend at about 10pm as a couple of the lads had booked a stripper to the room for the stag. It turned out they'd booked two strippers! Well, they called them strippers, most people would have called them escorts. Two very lacklustre-looking girls knocked at the door and when they came in was when the lads who booked them realised that they were probably better off booking one 8/10 rather than two fives. That's one thing I learnt that day about sex workers - quality over quantity.

They sat the stag down on the sofa and gave him a lap dance while playing Mötley Crüe off their phone. They took it up a notch were kissing and playing with each other on top of him too. We all stood there awkwardly watching while drinking lukewarm cans and having half an eye on The Big Lebowski that was playing on mute on the TV. It was reminiscent of the days when you were a teenager and you and your mates would put on a porno and just awkwardly watch it together regretting the decision. Except with real life women.

They hand cuffed him and stripped him down to his boxers - he was loving it. They started to tease taking his pants off too when he said "I don't mind what you do - do what you want - just don't take my boxers off. We're all having fun and I don't want to make it awkward" to which we were all agreeing with.

They took them off anyway.

The stag was sitting on a sofa, naked and handcuffed - so he couldn't do anything about it - in front of eight of his best mates after explicitly asking them not to. We looked at the girls and all gave them a collective:

smh-disappointed.gif

and what mood there was in the room immediately evaporated. We kind of just looked at the floor while they sheepishly pulled his pants back up realising they'd taken it too far and ruined it. The girls then decided to start doing private "dances" in the bedroom. One by one, a few of the lads went in to have their "dance" while the rest of us carried on watching the movie and drinking cans in the living room. At one point, one of the girls tip toed into the living room completely naked, said "don't mind me", went to her bag, rooted around in it and pulled out a massive dildo and ran back off to the bedroom. One of the lads was married and went for a private dance, but said he felt it wouldn't be right to have a lap dance as a married man so instead he told us he "just watched them get off with each other while he had a wank". Husband of the year.

Another lad went in for his dance and one of the girls came into the living room with us. She told us that he'd asked for a dance with just the other girl so do we mind if she waits in here with us. We said not at all, and offered her a drink for while she's waiting as we weren't sure on the etiquette in these situations. She asked us what we were watching and said "oh, I love this film!", opened the can, sat down and made her self at home with us. That's when me and my one mate had a moment of clarity and realised it was Saturday night and we were sitting on a sofa with a naked, budget stripper, watching movies and drinking cans of Carlsberg together. We looked at our watches and noticed that if we leave now we can still make it for last orders somewhere. Anywhere. On the way into town we made a pact to make sure no one books a stripper for either of us on our respective stag dos and it's been upheld to this day.

It completely soured the whole weekend for a few of us and I have never felt more awkward and uncomfortable in my entire life. It was the least sexy or erotic thing I've ever witnessed, and I'm including my entire sexual history in that.

Edited by wordsfromlee
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