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Mark’s Stag Doo

Right then, I have been told to keep this as real as possible without too much poetic licence, but this was a stag doo, and involved alcohol so I am promising nothing, If I talk about the pigs dressed in goblin outfits whilst tap dancing on stage, feel free to assume that I may have had a few too many drinks and possibly a drag or two of a rather odd shaped and large roll up.
I managed to get out of work a little early and get down the M4 towards Newbury, usual cocks on the road for a Friday, so was glad to get there around 1700hrs. Well what can I say at this point, I would like to describe how the guys were just setting up and pitching tents whilst Mark pondered around saying hello to people and having general chit chat before the festivities, that’s what I would have liked to have said, but I would be lying, you know when you get to the pub a few hours later than your mates, and they are hammered and you got catch up to do, that’s pretty much what I arrived to.
Mark had already been donned in a very fetching Fairy outfit, complete with wings and flashing and singing wand and was sitting head of the table under the gazebo with horn in hand, filled with pretty much anything that was put in there. At this point I would like to say a massive thanks to the best men the set up babysitting duties, all was outstanding. Any way where were we, ahhh Mark, dear old Mark, I have known Mark a while now, and it’s fair to say I have seen his various levels of drunkenness, now bear in mind we are talking around 1830hrs on the Friday, on a scale of 1-10, Mark was touching a 7, but don’t get used to that scale, as 10 will soon become insignificant to this tale.
All the guys were arriving and getting set up, the trailer full of beer, lager and pretty sure there was Bristol cream in there was filled ‘temporally’ with water to keep it all cool, , All the ingredients of a top night lay ahead, well it did as long as you didn’t have a fairy outfit on complete with wings and flashing/ singing wand, it seems that mob rule took over and Mark was deemed to be having way way too much fun, and someone somewhere had made the executive decision that Mark had finally reached level 10 and required some punishment. So zip ties in hand, the slightly larger than life fairy was wrestled to the ground and ‘gently’ secured to the nearest fence.
Now you would think that would be it wouldn’t you, but no, that was not it, we could have just left him there, fucked off to the pub giggling at the thought of the level 10 drunk fairy having to piss his pants tied to the fence, but that would have been way too easy, so the first obvious step was to pour as much alcohol down his neck as possible, and pretty sure at this point, Bristol cream was introduced!!!!!! Not stopping with alcohol, various ingredients from the gourmet BBQ were thrown and just to top it off, Mark was garnished with about 2 litres of brown sauce, now for those involved and watching, this was all very amusing, but after a couple of minutes, it became apparent that the human eye is a tad objective to having brown sauce in it, fat fairy was squinting a lot and mumbling about stinging and blindness blah blah blah so he got hosed down with water, beer etc. etc. We released the fairy from his prison and thought taking him to the pub around the corner was the best idea ever.
I do need to mention at this point that level 10 is completely redundant; we are up in the late teens somewhere now. And Mark’s, ahem the fat fairy, ability to socialise with the locals who were out for a quiet drink with the family, was not really at an acceptable level for today’s society. But we persevered. Now the girls behind the bar were very accommodating, and let me say this in the nicest possible way, were larger than life ladies, now it was at this point that the fat fairy beckoned such serving wench, but with that social ineptitude I was talking about, we were asked to keep the fairy outside so the locals felt a little safer. Now I could waffle on about how drunk we all got, the man love and bromance that ensued, but I am sure you get the idea. It was a cracking first night, and I have to say I did enjoy being raided by the Ogri/Savage NERF SWAT team at the early hours and especially Big Daz trying to enforce a full body cavity search once tent was declared cleared. I still haven’t quite got over that as yet.
Surprisingly I woke early on Saturday morning, and what a morning it was, beautiful sky, Sun shining, and warm of all things, as I walked back to the admin area, I found myself passing the casualties of war strewn out across the area, in tents, partly in tents, not in tents at all, dressed, not dressed kind of dressed, and even found some survivors that had battled throughout the whole night, although they were in there final moments by the looks of it.
I decided that as one of the first to awake, I would take advantage of the single toilet before anyone else had their chance, all I am going to say, 3 flushes………….So eventually the Fairy rose from his heavenly slumber looked as bright as the morning sun! Who am I fucking kidding; The fairy looked fucked, and minus a wand I might add, seems that ended up on the fire at some point during the previous night’s battle. Although looking a little rough and whiffing of stale brown sauce and cruising at what I would say is a level 11, Mark was doing ok, the cooker was fired up and breakfast was served to the survivors. At the morning briefing, the Commanding officer suggested a team split, half to ride out (the most fit from the battle the night before were chosen) and half to recce and commence battle in the local pub. Needless to say I was part of the advance party that headed for the pub; the serving wenches were just over the moon to see us! But after some apologies, all was forgiven. It was nice, it was chilled, the sun was shining and my first pint tasted like a cup of cold sick, but I was happy. Mark seemed happy in fact we were all happy, sat in the sun, chilling with your brothers, chewing the fat, that’s what it is all about. As the morning progressed we ended up in the bar, played killer pool. Some wee Scottish fella suggested we hit the G&T, you know? G&T that really well known biker drink, well before you knew, we was all on them, it was like a G&T party, then came out the Bloody Marys, so battle had commenced once more. And we were winning, the pub had lost John Smiths, Jack Daniels, and few others and re-supply was not due for a few days.
The ride out party returned and slowly moved their way towards the pub, Battle was in full swing and Mark aka THE FAT FAIRY was at a respectable level 21 I would say and still supping the G&T’s, Bloody Marys and whatever else was thrown down his neck. Day 2 was slightly less full on, but it was about endurance, and it was such an amazing day, lots of laughs, lots of giggles, plenty of drink, and even the locals had warmed to unique charm and wit and ability to consume more alcohol than they thought was humanly possible. The fat Fairy was in full Bromance mode and dishing the love out like there was no tomorrow, but with the smell of stale brown sauce and Bristol cream, there was not much love being returned, but he knows we all love him really. It was a great weekend, and I am positive Mark had a great time, well what he remembers of it. As I sit here writing this I am smiling and remembering too many things to write down here and bore you with. Well the wedding is approaching fast and I for one cannot wait. I am positive it will be an amazing day for the Fat Fairy and his beautiful Princess,
good luck Bro, we all fucking loves ya
Togs aka NERF target