Sunday, 15 September 2013

The most original stag doo ever








Stag doo's have become commonplace wherever you tend to go these days.

 

 
It doesn’t matter where you jet off to or what town you visit there will always be a stag doo in an inebriated state.
Normally they are all in matching t shirts and the stag will be in a comedy costume they have purchased from a fancy dress shop. Sometimes they will all be wearing novelty hats.

 No matter where you go stag doos will follow. Some places are almost ruined because of the massive influx of them.
 
Amsterdam, Prague, Brighton and almost anywhere in coastal Spain can at night become crawling with drunk stags doo goers in their matching t shirts with their names on their backs.
 
Therefore when we got the chance to organise one we wanted to make it more individual and much more fun. We didn’t want to follow suit and do what everyone else does. We wanted to have some originality and do something that many would not dare or have the gumption to undertake.
 
Enter the stag.
 
My friend Adam Babbs was getting married to his long term fiancé Chelsey. His best man was my mate JP and then there was the motley crew of Alistair, Ben, Dave (Babbs' brother in law to be) and myself.
 
JP being an army officer wanted to run this operation with military precision.
 
Therefore we divided ourselves up in individual teams.
 
JP was on location. Another was on flights, another accommodation and so on.
 I was lucky and got costumes and activities.
 
This was a job I would relish as I did not have to run about chasing people for moneys. Although this group of friends have known each other for years and are pretty good with things like that.
 
JP looked at destinations and we exiled to the pub to discuss the idea further. Originally an idea mooted was to Fly to Malta and then catch the ferry over to Sicily and fly home after a few days. This stag we would call 'Babbs across borders'. Unfortunately the flight prices were ridiculous so we started to look further afield.
 
Then it hit us.
 
Babbs as a stag should be out of his comfort zone. Not in the sense that he is naked in public tied to a lamppost, oh no. Out of his comfort zone in terms of going to an area of the world where he has never been and something that will freak him out.
 
Therefore due to budgetary requirements of the group we settled on Morocco.
Cheap flights and accommodation and plenty to do and see.

 

 

The morning came and Babbs was waiting at his house near Winchester. An inconspicuous taxi arrived and he got in.

 
Thinking he was going to Stansted airport he was a little put off when the driver dropped him off at Gatwick and told him that another cab would be along shortly.
He waited and waited; then it started to drizzle.

All the time we were in the Gatwick South terminal bar.

Eventually we text him to come inside and he did so.
 
Somehow we managed to befriend two American girls and sent them off to find Babbs. They gave him loads of false info and he almost cried.
 
His poor face was one of utter bemusement.
 
He had no idea where he was going and was told to pack for a cold country.
 
Eventually we jumped out and took him to the bar. But not before we dressed him in his 'travelling attire'.
 
This costume must be worn at all times while travelling. We also had his night-time attire and his sporting attire hidden in our bags.
 
His face dropped when he saw what I had found by rummaging around in charity shops.
 
Babbs looked resplendent, if a little unhappy in his new attire. He wore a pink visor and sunglasses to match; accompanied by a green shirt with a nice red bow tie and stripy socks.
 
But the best part was that he had a suit that I had altered the lengths of the sleeves and the legs. In other words he looked stunning.
 
Oh and to top it off he had a garden Gnome around his neck on some string that the American girls christened George Kinki!
 
The fun didn’t stop there. At this point he was still clutching his bag full of cold weather clothing and had no idea where we were off to.
Once through passport control we queued up at the gate for the Alicante flight. His face dropped as he had been there so many times.

Then as we reached the gate we scooted off leaving him baffled and queued up for a Thomas Cook Tunisian holiday line.

Now he was sure that we were not off to Tunisia but we stood in line all the same.

Then at the last minute we marched off to the Marrakesh line and his face dropped.

His bottom lip quivered and he uttered one word of exasperation. ‘Africa’! He whimpered.

As if all his worst night mares had come true.

Poor Babbs. He was shocked and seemed to shrink within himself. His shoulders dropped and his demeanour became reclusive and sullen.
 
Little did he know he was in for the stag doo of his life and would shed tears of joy later on.
 
Little did he know that we would end up being beaten to an inch of our lives by an old man in ill-fitting pants in a hammam.
He didn’t know that Alistair would end up in hospital after cutting his head open stand up paddle boarding.

He didn’t know that we would take Essaouria by storm and his night time attire would be very appreciated by the locals and that Marrakesh would hold one of the most drunken nights out ever.

 
All he knew at this moment was terror.
But soon he would be walking through the back streets of the coastal city of Essaouria dressed in a white jelebah and white fez with the locals beckoning him into shops.

The white jelabah robes symbolised marriage but the fez was meant for a newly circumcised boy.

The locals loved him for this.

 
And so the fun started……………..

Date May 2012
Place Morocco


 












1 comment:

  1. Ha ha poor Babbs. This sounds brilliant fun. x

    ReplyDelete