( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:22, 3 replies)

Cheers

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:21, Reply)

Is that your final answer?

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:18, Reply)

I should be so lasty
lasty, lasty, lasty
( broadsword w⚓, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:18, Reply)

I'm last and so is my wife!

(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:15, Reply)

Long story short, last in my own mouth.

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:14, Reply)

Schindlers Last

( broadsword w⚓, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:06, 1 reply)

The last and the furious.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 10:01, Reply)

ACTUALLY last.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 9:56, Reply)

LAST.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 9:34, 3 replies)

A mate of mine went on his future brother-in-law's stag do.
One of the merry crowd that headed off to Prague was an officer in the vice squad. He gave them all a little speech about what happens in Prague stays in Prague, and also some warnings about scams in the sex industry.

Guess which of the group had his cash card stolen by a hooker who had looked over his shoulder as he withdrew money for his upcoming transaction with her, and then had his bank account emptied.

I'll give you a clue. He works for the Metropolitan Police in a unit with the initials VS.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 6:07, 3 replies)

Left 100 - Fire for Effect
When I was in the Army Reserve my best friend, who was also a reservist, was getting married and we had his stag and hen (we call them stag and doe in the great white North) at the Armoury. After a considerable amount of alcohol had been consumed, friend decided to retire to the kitchen, which was on the second floor with a window overlooking the parking lot. I went to make sure he was okay, and as I walked in he said, "Smudge - I'm gonna puke!". He leaned out of the window and vomited heroically - all over the Battery Commander's car, which was parked directly under the window. I quickly rounded up a couple of the lads, got out the hose and sprayed the car down thoroughly before the BC came out. He must have wondered why his car was dripping wet when it was a beautiful summer night with nary a cloud in the sky, but he never asked - and we weren't about to tell him.
(Smudge the Demon, Thu 6 Feb 2014, 1:25, Reply)

ROCK AND ROOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!
Went on a big-house-in-the-middle-of-nowhere stag do, twenty of us, mostly 40-something pro- or ex-musicians, a mini-bus and a space-bus loaded to the gunwhales with beer and rot-gut scrumpy, our pockets stuffed with MASSIVE drugs and two huge hampers of pies and cheese. Three hours solid drinking in the pub beforehand, three more en route. We got there without incident, and over the next two days, drank all the booze, smoked crippling amounts of weed, played music at stupid volumes, did the washing up, bagged up the empties, and came home again. Mind you, someone did crack a beer-glass while rinsing it under the hot tap. Animals, we are.
(redexile, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 21:58, 1 reply)

No stories about the stag do's I've been to.Just one about a bloke I used to know.
One of the kids I hung round with back when I was in school and this was all flids was a bloke called Dai Mong (Not his real name). Dai was even more of a loser than the rest of us. Not helped by the rumour that he once wanked off his dog, or that he looked like Anthony Perkins and used to mutter to himself.
As time went by Dai got more introverted and drifted away from the rest of the gang, this was not a complete surprise as he'd spent more time in school on the mitch than in lessons, and even used to disappear for weeks at a time after getting into the sixth form, before dropping off the radar completely. As for rest of our gang, some of us left our dead end valleys shithole, some stayed, some left and came back again, most of us stayed loosely in touch and there were always a few to be found in our old local pub on a Friday night.
One Friday afternoon, seven or eight of us had met up for a few drinks in the pub and some MASSIVE DRUGS and a bit of a wander in the nearby country park (always good for a pleasant trip and a bit of a smoke) before heading back to the pub for the evening. After a bit we decided to head to the one nightclub in the town that we all liked (Because they had a two hour Happy Hour).
As it so often does when you reach the incredible age of mid-twenties, our conversation drifted into the realms of 'Remember when?' and at some point Dai Mong's name came up, partly because despite him not having moved from the town, none of us had seen him since he dropped out of sixth form several years earlier. After a few Dai Mong stories we started talking about his sister, who was seriously sexy, and then other women. As you do.
A bit later a couple of the guys came back from getting a round in and Wally said 'You know we were talking about Dai Mong earlier? Well he's here.'
'Fuck off' I said 'You're fucking kidding.'
'Nope, he's sat at the bar with a slapper.'
Up we all got and over to the bar we all went, and sure enough, sat at the bar, large as life and twice as ugly, was Dai Mong. With what would nowadays be called a chavette at his side, resplendent in her shellsuit, looking at her trainers, chewing gum while drinking her alchopop and playing with her ponytail.
'Fucking Hell Dai, how've you been?' etc went us all.
'Oh hi you lot, I'm working these days. This is my fiancée Tracy' Dai muttered.
After introductions Rob asked in passing what had brought them to the club that night.
'Oh' Dai replied 'Tonight is my Stag Do.'
'Ah, so you're having a drink with Tracy and then going off to meet up with your mates, yeah?'
'No, this is my Stag Do.'
So, yeah, Here's to you and your One Man Stag Do Dai Mong. Still at least you found someone that loved you, you lucky, lucky dog molester, you.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Wed 5 Feb 2014, 16:14, 7 replies)

Peak District Stag Weekend
Last summer I attended a stag weekend in the Peak District. This was a bit of a magic mystery tour for all except the two best men. We were all asked to arrive at a pub a few miles from Buxton, for a weekend varying activities.

The stag, Jim, had arrived much earlier in the day, along with the two hi-vis jacketed best men (the jackets an attempt at whackiness). Throughout the afternoon and evening the rest of the 16 strong group arrived, each in turn buying Jim a pint and a chaser. By the time I reached the venue (about 9pm) Jim was very merry indeed. The last of the group to arrive was Rolly, a portly young man with a fondness for port. Indeed this fondness for said fortified wine led him to bring a bottle that had been laid down in 1978, to share amongst us, Jim included. Rolly’s arrival gave the crap raver versions of the Chuckle Brothers to announce that our night’s accommodation was in fact the very pub we were drinking in. We then scrambled to bag ourselves good rooms. Wisely the best men chose not to share a room with Jim; instead that honour was left to his young chum Dan.

Before actually going to bed Rolly insisted on sharing his wonderful, rare bottle of port, giving the lion’s share, rather generously to Jim. The port was rather ripe, with a strong aroma of mildew and fear. Jim wasn’t put off by this and downed it, on top of the variety of ales, lagers, spirits, liqueurs and malevolent little shooter drinks that he’d been consuming throughout the afternoon and evening. We all retired to our respective beds.

We were all woken at 8am on the Saturday, breakfasted and dressed, to await the ‘party bus’ (a minibus with a loud stereo and strobe lights). This arrived, we boarded, but there was no sign of either Jim or Dan. The DayGlo Duo ventured up to the stag’s room, before rushing down to announce a delay. Half an hour later Jim and Dan toddled out, green faced and whimpering in the light. Dan apologised for the delay and explained what had transpired in the night.

He was woken up by the sound of Jim being violently sick in his bed. Dan went to help and make sure that Jim wasn’t going to choke. He turned on the light and was confronted by the sight of Jim’s vomit marinated top half and a rich brown aroma emanating from his bottom half, which upon further inspection was found to be accompanied by a rich, brown, semi-solid sludge. This was too much for young Dan, which led him to in turn vomit his share of port, ale and miscellaneous drinks on to the mixture currently embalming Jim.

Jim blames Rolly’s port. He would have been fine aside from that.

TL/DR: My friend shat the bed and sicked up in it. His chum then sicked up on top of him too.
(GonkHerder, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 13:56, 4 replies)

Nothing says "Classy" like a pub with a banner outside saying
"PRAGUEPISSUP.CO.UK OFFICIAL MEETING POINT"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 12:58, 3 replies)

Stag night planning FAIL
Last year I was a Best Man, and had the task of planning the stag. This wasn't to be a wild night of debauchery; the groom wanted a day of various fun activities. A list of potential ideas was formed, and one of them was to do a brewery tour - as we're all fans of BEER, and there are several great breweries in our area.

However, after phoning around, I discovered that they all had huge waiting lists, particularly on Saturdays, and it just wasn't going to be possible. Reluctantly I told the groom that we'd have to abandon that particular idea.

He then gleefully pointed out that it was now official: I couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery...

Arse.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 11:22, 5 replies)

Went to Eurorock festival in Belgium for one of my mates "stag dos".
Now the thing was, John Foxx and Lois Gordon where supposed to headline the last night - but they were on the bill as Ultravox.
They threw a hissy fit and refused to play, so the promoters got Front 242 to stand in instead, who put on an amazing show - absolutely brilliant.
Also - the 100-a-side football match (played with a beachball) was quite good fun, too.
Europe, eh? It's like another country.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 10:08, 6 replies)

How much!?
What ever happened to some karting, getting pissed, and ogling some tits is what I want to know. The last stag do I was asked to go to involved a trip to Ibiza. Okay it would be a laugh but £400-£500 (once spends are taken into account) is a bit steep for a weekend with a load of hairy assed wankers. Plus I can't imagine the awfulness of a flight + coach trip with a post stag do hangover. Also I am a tight fisted git
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Wed 5 Feb 2014, 9:22, 23 replies)

What do you get when a stag fucks a hen?

(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 21:27, 17 replies)

alright

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 19:11, 10 replies)

It was all going rather well until a heated discussion about the coolest animal.
Eventually it came down to a head-to-head between the ever-popular monkey and the fearsome shark. And then a moment of genius from the groom's brother. What if you combined a monkey and a shark! A hybrid! A monark, if you will. The irrepressible head of a monkey and the powerful body of the king of the oceans!

And that is how the groom ended up with a tattoo of the world's ugliest mermaid.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 17:18, 15 replies)

Obviously, Amsterdam was involved.
But not for the reasons you would probably suspect. Our accomodation on this stag jaunt was a lovely converted fishing trawler moored up in Amsterdam harbour. I can thoroughly recommend it as great way to stay in the city, although it does carry a slight frisson of danger for the alcoholically challenged or nautically inexperienced. But anyway.

The accomodation was split between the front and the rear. In the front, the cabin contained 3 sets of bunks, and to access the top bunks involved using a set of steep metal grille steps of the kind favoured on fire escapes. These had been helpfully painted with anti slip paint. We returned from whatever we had been up to on the friday evening and retired. It should be pointed out that the lights inside this boat had a master switch by the stern cabin, so those in the bow had to make their nocturnal trips to the pisser in almost total darkness. And so it went that *name redacted* attempted to make it for a piss in the early hours and slipped on these steps in bare feet. It apparently stung a bit, so he went for his piss and then tried in vain to find the master switch, failed, and got back into bed.

I had to be up early to catch a flight and, feeling a little tender as the alarm went off, I glanced over the side of the bed to scenes of what appeared to be total slaughter. Rememeber the bathroom in Very Bad Things? yeah, that. It later transpired that *name redacted*, when he slipped, had almost fully de-gloved his big toe and had spread an astonishing amoung of blood about the entire boat in his nocturnal wanderings. Including a pool in the toilet where he had stood for a piss that wouldn't have looked out of place in an abbatoir. He was blissfully unaware of this in the darkness and had gone back to bed to somehow avoid bleeding out in his sleep.

I should have checked as to who the blood was from and if they were OK. I should have made sure that there wasn't a dismembered hooker somewhere nearby. But as I'm the kind of cunt that posts on here I fucked off to get my plane instead and left the next person to wake to deal with the problem

tl/dr - humans contain quite a lot of blood and seem to be able to lose a large portion of it with limited permanent effect.
( the mighty badger Aphrodite, on a bar stool, by your side, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 15:29, 12 replies)

There were about 30 of us on a Stag do to that Amsterdam. We went there for the art galleries and
the museums because most of us had seen the major European offerings of that nature. Plus, Amsterdam has all those coffee shops and the louche nature of the sexual mores of Holland has a certain appeal.

Obviously, the museum stories are a tad dull and so I shall tell you about the part where the stag was taken to a live sex show, but what he did not know was that he was to become part of that show. Major lols. He was stripped and tossed onto the stage where women dressed as dominatrix and slave got to grips with him. Unfortunately, this is where the good natured ribaldry started to unravel. The Stag was supposed to be turned on by the women, supposed to grow to his full tumescence and possibly even blow his load. However, as we all witnessed the exact opposite happened - his penis and testicles began to withdraw, it was like the opposite of going through puberty. Toe curling embarrassment has nothing on watching a fellow male lose his cock. The more the women tried the worse it got, everyone in the audience began to empathise - they too began to lose their cocks and testicles were ascending. The stag ended up with a mangina but without the tuck, it is said his left testicle has still not descended. Oh yes, live sex shows with the groom and charming Dutch women sounds a wonderful idea but it wasn't. I still sometimes weep at the memory.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 12:08, 15 replies)

I organised a stag night
We got dressed as nuns with sunglasses and army boots, then went on a pub crawl through Camden and Soho before ending up at one of those naked lady bars in Shoreditch. It was great.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 11:49, Reply)

My mate went to an indoor go-karting place during the day and then we all went out for a drink later but were home by midnight because we're right boring cunts.
Apologies for length.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 11:39, 31 replies)

i've just been asked to cough up £350 for a hen do
for 2 nights in a cottage in england. they hope this will cover everything, but best bring additional cash in case it isn't. what the fuck is that kitty going towards, pints of unicorn spunk and children's tears?

other than that, nothing exciting. my friends are far too boring/civilised. we had one trip to marbella where the groom's 38 year old sister and bridesmaid was somewhere on the comfortable side of a size 24. she ended up snogging a 21 year old boy, who was clearly just looking for somewhere to spend the night. he wooed her with a bar of dairy milk because "she looked like someone who liked her chocolate".

another occasion we had a cottage in the cotswolds, and the hottest barman you've ever seen in your life came for a couple of hours to teach us how to make cocktails. his girlfriend sat in the car, glowering at us throughout the entire thing - clearly she didn't trust him or us.

and on one classy occasion, we were blowing up cockshaped balloons. i'd done 3, but my friend was still on the same 1. it was enormous. oh the hilarity - mine were pink and hers was brown.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 9:25, 10 replies)

Penalties
On my first stag night doing the pub rounds, we ran into a hen night. My brother was doing quite well chatting up the future bride until she puked all over the floor of the pub. Landlord made him clean it up.......
(anthorin, Tue 4 Feb 2014, 5:42, 2 replies)

Bears on Lawns
The men in my family are known for their body hair and we aren't even Greek! Anyway, my youngest brother's bachelor party got a little out of hand. He is the proud owner of one gen yew wine jet black back & shoulder pelt so thick you can't see any skin under it. It appears as though he is wearing some sort of frontless fur coat.
He had too much to drink, passed out face down on the front lawn and his high school buddies shaved his football number in his back hair. The next day he stood in front of 350 guests in church squirming, itching like mad and unable to do anything, including scratching.


His bride and the other women in the family had no sympathy and have ridden him for years about it.

edit: he was squirming, not the guests. It wasn't that kind of wedding.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 3 Feb 2014, 22:56, 2 replies)

Dear Diary, today I got married and brought the noise
My best man and I got away with a stag do on my wedding night - clashing, as it did, with a Public Enemy gig here in NZ.

This being a measure of the paucity of acts visiting post-earthquake Christchurch, not really a declaration of indifference to the sanctity of marriage.

They were OK, went on for far too long though, as usual - cod-Marxist lecturing pales a bit after about an hour and half, regardless of how funky the beats are.

Lack of relevance?; We got home to find either the wife or her best friend had taken a shit, missed the pan and gone to bed. Fortunately, by that time I was inured, having become well versed in the far worse horrors of the projects.
(J H Christ began in Afrika ka ka ka ka, Mon 3 Feb 2014, 22:21, 4 replies)