jump to navigation

Het tips September 5, 2006

Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
trackback
Boys, I need your help. The dreaded stag-circus is making its way into town this Thursday. I am the only member of the fairer orientation involved and I’ve got a feeling I may struggle with some of the mores of the occasion. What do I do?
Do I call the police when I witness my friend being tied naked to a tree or shout way-hey and run away and leave him? Do I ask the almost-naked lady who is having euros tucked into her panties if she needs help to escape this job or shout way-hey and tuck 5 euros in myself? Do I suggest I’d rather wear my own clothing for the occasion, thank you very much, or shout way-hey and don a t-shirt that says A_’s-last-fling-Berlin-2006 along with my fellow revellers? Do I print out the train timetable for A_ and give it to him so that he knows how to get back from Hoyerswerda having been put naked on a train there (not sure whether this is pre- or post-tree) or do I just shout way-hey and guffaw with the others about the trouble he’s going to have getting back? Do I suggest moisturising A_’s left eyebrow before helping to hold him down and shaving it off or do I shout way-hey and laugh at how unpleasant it all was? Do I ask my fellow revellers if they are suffering from indigestion and would they like me to fetch them some Rennie when I hear them burp or just shout way-hey and try my best to burp the alphabet with them? Do I say, “I’m homosexual and don’t understand the off-side rule,” when football is discussed or shout way-hey and sing the praises of 4-4-2?
I don’t know why A_ is subjecting himself to this torture. He’s one of the few heterosexual men I’ve seen cry, and this in a conversation about politics. (Drink may have featured.) And I now see what a hopeless best man I was myself. I didn’t organise any naked ladies, naked trains or naked trees. Or mention masturbation, prostitutes or fellatio in my speech. Perhaps poofs and marriage just don’t mix.
Advertisements

Comments»

1. Wyndham - September 5, 2006

Shouting way-hey very five minutes will help I think. I don’t blame you for feeling trepidacious. I’m a keen drinker and socialiser but don’t being surrounded by more than three other men at the same time. Some genetic thing kicks in and before long someone’s quoting Michael Caine movies and then heaven knows where it will end. Actually, hen nights seem to be even worse these days. Myself and some friends ill-advisedly went for a weekend in Blackpool a while back – *rolls eyes* I know, I know, I got talked into it – but everywhere we went there were bloody hen night groups operating what can only be described as a scorched earth policy. It was like 28 Days Later. One toothless old crone, a great grandmother with tits around her knees grabbed us by surprise and demanded a kiss. My friend turned to me solemnly afterwards and intoned: “We will never talk of this again.”

2. BiB - September 5, 2006

Wynders, I refuse, on moral grounds, to write the abbreviation for laugh out loud – I used to think it meant lots of love and could never understand folk’s kindness – but your comment has made me laugh out loud mid-cigarette, which has been the only moment of mirth in an otherwise silent and lonely day (though I like silence and being alone, between you and me). On the train back from Sussex-errand to Gatwick Airport, I said to my pal that I thought a hen-night would be more fun. She assured me this was not the case and said she’d heard of a recent case where a hen-party involved pole-dancing classes. Who would want to do that in front of their friends?

An Irish pal of mine had French friends visiting her in Dublin. It was full of groups of girls on hen parties. The French friends asked her if these ladies were in fancy dress. She explained they weren’t. They then asked if they were prostitutes. Again, she explained they weren’t.

Perhaps I’m secretly worried that I’ll be turned heterosexual this weekend. I’d better go and have a queer beer this evening to reinvigorate the gay gene.

3. MountPenguin - September 5, 2006

If it means anything, as a non-queer beer drinker the first thing that came into my head upon seeing “4-4-2” was something to do with the number of wheels on a steam locomotive, and I have also been publicly ridiculed by my better half for asking – in all innocence – why the orange and white teams (or whoever) were suddenly playing from the opposite ends. (Seriously, I did not know that this happened until a couple of years ago).

On the other hand the weather forecast said it would be 31°C (143°F or something) on Thursday, so it should be nice weather for being tied naked to the local shrubbery (though it might be nice to attach some sort of note explaining that this is an ethnic and not a sexual practice, to prevent any possible intercultural misunderstandings).

4. BiB - September 5, 2006

MountPenguin, another good tip. Thank you. I shall print the notices out bilingually forthwith.

I once met a lady who asked me, with football on in the background, if the aim of the game was to put the round, bouncey thing in the netty thing. I was impressed.

5. Bren - September 6, 2006

I’d go with 4-3-3, but other than that, you’ll be fine.

6. Bowleserised - September 6, 2006

Oh, why not run away? The horror… And you’re right, hen nights frequently aren’t much better. There is always the air of forced fun.

My German tandem language partner and I were talking about British boozing and she told me in horror that she had seen SCHOOLCHILDREN in SCHOOLUNIFORMS drunk in the streets and lining up outside clubs!

I had to explain the whole School Disco concept.

7. Geoff - September 6, 2006

Yes, hen nights are much worse. I’ve been on two now (apparently these days no decent middle class hen night is complete without a token gay or two in attendance) and the forced fun is a bit much.

Although I’ve just returned from by brother’s stag do in Wales, where the best man hired a stripper. She was far more graphic than they were expecting (being rather naive in these matters I have no idea if their expectations were reasonable or not) which was quite amusing. Having never been so close to a vagina before I was strangely fascinated, whereas my brother’s very well-brought up catholic public schoolboy friends didn’t know where to look.

8. Bowleserised - September 6, 2006

Mr He-Knows-Who-He-Is tells me that the stag night strippers in his neck of the woods actually shag the groom. On the stage of the working men’s club. Nice.

Actually, my only hen night horror story was a blip in an otherwise nice evening out. The bride’s future sister-in-law had organised a kind of “answer the truth to this question” drinking game. She chose all the questions. And answered them all.
Now, I don’t mind the idea of women having exciting sexual adventures and telling one all about them on an appropriate occasion, but this young lady seemed to have done everything (and I mean everything) out of low self esteem, and had little joy in it.
But still she told us. In detail.

9. Blonde at Heart - September 6, 2006

I would say, take it as an educational experience. When the World Cup was on I asked my (slightly annoyed) friends to explain to me what “off-side” means. I was so excited when I managed to spot one and in another occasion yell “that’s not fair, ref!” when the referee ordered a penalty for Italy (in that game vs. Australia, where it was clear it was NOT an offside. I was so proud). I must also say that they explained the whole thing in exchange for me going to get the waitress’ phone number.

If everything goes really bad and you do not enjoy yourself, two shots of whatever will do the trick. If they will not make you slightly more light-headed, at least you will remember nothing in the morning.

10. BiB - September 6, 2006

Bren, is Australia now a nation of football-lovers after doing so well at this year’s World Cup and being unfairly knocked out by the eventual champions? Good to see you here, even if you are post-blog.

B., School Discos? What are they? We didn’t have those, but I was at an all-boys school and dancing with our classmates was perhaps not to be encouraged.

I’d like to run away, in a way, but I suppose it’ll pass off painlessly enough (he says, in hope). And I’m desperately trying to work out who Mr. He-Knows-Who-He-Is is. What, on the stage? In front of all his friends? I once attended a stag-do-lite where the stripper did try to gain access to the groom’s genitalia. He resisted manfully.

Geoff, perhaps the whole experience will be equally didactic for me. I’m a bit terrified now. Do you think the hets actually enjoy this sort of behaviour? I’m sure they’d secretly rather sit around and talk about Wittgenstein and cry occasionally. Social pressures, eh?

BAH, perhaps I have too high imaginary standards for Israelis, but tell me that there is no such tradition in Israel of this type of antic just before a wedding. (Germans smash crockery, but I have also seen marauding groups of German males in matching t-shirts staggering round Berlin, so perhaps they’ve imported this very poor tradition too.)

11. Bowleserised - September 6, 2006

I actually got injured in the crockery smashing part of the German wedding I attended earlier this year. RFM has the photo somewhere.

And yes, sex on stage. It happens.

12. Bowleserised - September 6, 2006

Forgot to add, School Disco is a tawdry club night where grown ups dress in school uniforms and dance along to hits from their yoof. Meat. Market.

13. BiB - September 6, 2006

I pray I don’t see A_ having sex on stage this weekend, even if he is rather handsome.

14. Blonde at Heart - September 6, 2006

In Israel the awful “tradition” of hen night catches speed, but in more civilised way. For girls I know it includes bringing a quiche or a salad to the bride (so she would not have to cook for her guests) and some astrologer or something to tell bollocks. For guys, I have no idea. None of my guy-friends has got married. (Yes, people in Israel, especially from the circles from which most of my girl-friends come from get married at their very early 20s).

15. BiB - September 6, 2006

Why is it that always the worst traditions catch on with such lightning speed? (Perhaps I’m just in a traditional mood today.)

16. GreatSheElephant - September 6, 2006

It’s not always like that. The last hen do I went to involved a spa day with the bride’s mother and the emergency summoning of the groom part way through the day because they were missing each other so much.

17. BiB - September 6, 2006

I went to my brother-in-law’s stag-thing in the environs of Barcelona in 1998. That was also relatively event-free, actually. Perhaps I am worrying needlessly. Though perhaps not.

18. Bren - September 7, 2006

Football?

I thought off-side was a reference to gays!

19. BiB - September 7, 2006

Bren, I’m down to PLAY football this weekend. PLAY! I haven’t ‘played’ football since hiding from the ball aged about 13 and then doing archery for ever, which all the non-sporty types did.

Can anyone also tell me if, as a non-driver, I will be able to negotiate the workings of a kart? And am I likely to maim myself?

20. Christina - September 8, 2006

Howdy! I’m new round here.

Luckily I haven’t ever had to endure a hens night, my gal pals are the eloping types, but I do fondly recall the time I took my shy, 17 year old little brother out for karaoke and forced him to get up and sing his favorite George Michael song. A geriatric female from one of the hen parties present (she had to be at least 75) then proceeded onto the stage, unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed her hands all up and down his chest. I nearly wet myself it was so funny.

21. Blonde at Heart - September 8, 2006

Hey, since in my early years I was some sort of tom-boy, I will share with you the useful tips I learnt about football (apart from “ruuuuuuuun!”): do not kick the ball with the tip of your shoe. It seems easier, but you are also more likely to break a toe. Kick with the side of your foot. Moreover, kicking with the tip of your shoe will earn you the unflattering nick-name “Spitzer” (it is Hebrew slang, as well as a German word). Apart from that, do not volunteer to be the goaly. A broken wrist is worse than a broken toe.
And most importantly: Have fun!

22. Ed Ward - September 8, 2006

So if poofs and marriage don’t mix, why is the American right wing in such a dither about the combo?

Which is to say, poofs, hets, what-ev-uh. Get married if you want to. Or not. We all make our choices.

Not that that’s going to help you much, sorry to say.

23. leon - September 8, 2006

I’ve only ever been to two ‘stag’ things, both in London; at one I ended up drunk in a boat, and at the other I ended up drunk in Clerkenwell (not terribly different to a normal evening, then).

24. Michael Scott Moore - September 9, 2006

Bib, I’m with you 100%. I never write “LOL.”

25. BiB - September 10, 2006

Mike, I might almost be tempted to write it if it did indeed mean ‘lots of love’, but then I’d have to have moral objections on grounds of the word love being abbreviated. Surely it deserves much more respect than to ever just become a measly l in an abbreviation.

Leon, I might even try to summon up a post on some of the antics of the last few days at some point. It was, I guess, the standard fare, pretty much, although I’m beginning to wonder why anyone now bemoans the lack of sexual morals in the gay world. I felt like a nun in comparison to most of these gents.

Ed, I’ve never cottoned on to what it is people who are so against gay marriage are against, exactly. OK, the people who straightforwardly hate gays are going to find any opportunity to hate them and everything they do, I suppose, but the argument that it somehow belittles heterosexual marriage? I CANNOT see the logic. Anyway, the nice thing (well, this has happened in the UK, at least) is that, whatever fuss there was before gay marriage was introduced (not that there was tonnes in the UK, but anyway), everyone immediately stopped giving a toss the second it actually got started, apart from a few random nutters who stood outside town halls in Northern Ireland talking of sodom and gomorrah.

BAH, imagine, I missed the football AND the karting. An Australian gent in the group was desperate for me to take him to a gay bar (for anthropological purposes, I presume), and we went to a horribly sleazy one, because it was all I could think of that would be open, had one slug of beer before dashing back out and got home at 7am and slept through the next day’s sporting events. (The other gentlemen said this was just as well as no way would I have been able to negotiate a kart.)

Christina, hello! Eloping sounds like an awfully good idea. I’m almost tempted to get married to see how the gay-stag tradition would shape events. Anyway, as I realise with every greater clarity that (lots of) heterosexual men are fascinated with gayness (I’m sure they’re secretly fascinated by that redundant part of their sexual anatomy, between you and me), they’d probably be only too happy to go to a string of gay venues.

26. Bren - September 12, 2006

You skipped on the sporting events?!

I was going to ask how it all went, but your comments have revealed a sort of ‘I was there, nothing to write home about’ thing.

I’ve never done a stag night’s thing. Mostly this is because most of my friends are chicks. Case in point – the Flatmate pondered asking me to come along to a girl’s weekend away.

It would have been great, of course. But she realised that, fundamentally, I’m still a bloke. And I sort of do want to sleep with all her friends. But I could shoe shop with them afterward.

27. BiB - September 12, 2006

Bren, between you and me, I think the het men struggled, internally and individually, but not revealedly, with the whole saga as much as I did. I slightly do want to write about it, but then it feels naughty to too, but it did have elements of fun and elements which horrified me. Perhaps Australians are more civilised than the former colonial masters and Australian stag-events aren’t quite as naughty. I think Britain must have created the empire by unleashing groups of drunk men on unsuspecting nations. Expect Estonia and the Czech Republic to become British colonies any second now…

(WV: pfompt, which is posh for prompt.)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: