Off to Liverpool on Friday for a stag weekend. If I had a top ten list of City’s to go out on the piss in, Liverpool would be top of the pile. Oh what the fuck, here’s my list, UK City’s only.
I’d obviously include Cardiff but has I live there I’ll give it a miss. London scrapes in at number 10 purely for weekends when Wales beat England at Rugby, though I have had some cracking days there. I’ve also had some shit times in London but who hasn’t?
Had my stag weekend in Liverpool which was a real blast. A lot of my mates were playing 1st class Rugby at the time and one of the boys in their team was getting married the week after me. Needless to say we joined forces. I should probably point out at this stage that although I play Rugby I’m very much a short arse. Before we went out on the Friday one of the boys decided that being only five foot six, I ran the risk of getting lost in a crowd. To that end I was presented with a pair of flip flops with a wedge of wood glued to the bottom. These transformed me to Six foot three but as a few of the Moms will back me up on, not very easy to walk on. I discovered this the painful way when I managed to go down the stairs in the Cavern club quicker than if I was in a bobsleigh. Luckily the bouncer saw the funny side has did a couple of young ladies who spent the rest of the evening soothing my aching bone(s).
On the Saturday myself and the other poor sap getting married strolled into this pub at eleven in the morning. The barmaid casually glanced up from reading the paper and asked what we wanted. “Fifty two pints of Cider please” was the reply. She stared at us for a few seconds and then the bar doors opened and the rest of our crew started walking in. By the time she had finished pouring the fifty second pint the empty glasses were starting to fill up the bar. For the next two and a half hours all this poor girl did was pour Cider. It got so bad they were rolling barrels up the street from the next pub. Of course, when we moved on they had to roll the barrels back down the street.
My best man couldn’t make the Friday night because of work commitments so come the obligatory drinking games on the Saturday, he was getting fined double everyone else. About nine in the evening he speed wobbled over to me and said he was going for a shower and would meet up with us in the Adelphi. We all split up and strolled on down there about tennish where the bouncers turned us away saying that they knew there was fifty of us and didn’t need the hassle. Fair point I suppose. We all ended up in different clubs where I finally collapsed and a couple of the boys took me back to the hotel around two in the morning. Sitting in the bar, pissed out of his skull is my best man. He’d gone to the Adelphi before us and they had this policy at the time where you could pay whatever you wanted to get in and they would exchange it for tokens to spend behind the bar. He paid fifty quid and then told the bouncers that there were fifty of us pitching up and they couldn’t miss us has we were all six footers other than me. What a stupid twat.
By elevenish, he realised we weren’t getting in and with fifty quid of tokens to get through he started hitting the shorts big time. Because he had come up on the Saturday he had ended up in the worst room in the hotel, a shitty little box room with nothing in it apart from a bed. Halfway through the night he woke up busting for a piss so staggered into the hallway to use the communal toilets on his landing. When he woke up in the morning he realised something was wrong when he spotted a cupboard by the side of the door. His worst fears were confirmed when some mans voice said “finally woken up have you”? My mate turns around and there’s this guy, nothing to do with us, and his wife in bed with him. The idiot has only walked back into the wrong room and collapsed on the bed. This guy had tried to wake him with no luck so they had left him there all night. Not sure I would have been so charitable had it been my wife and I in bed and some drunken fool trying to crash out with us.
A year later my mate found out just how lucky he had been. A famous Welsh Rugby player had his stag do in Liverpool and one of his friends did something similar. Unfortunately for him, he clambered into bed with a woman who was on her own. She woke up to find this guy, snoring away, with his arm around her. Naturally, she screamed the place down. The Police arrived and this guy explained what had happened. There was a bit of banter, the Police were quite cool that nothing had happened and it was all a misunderstanding. The woman, who was a lawyer, didn’t see it that way and pressed charges of attempted rape. The guy was married with kids and a decent job so, foolishly, he tried to forget it had happened. When it went to court he hired a cheap lawyer and armed with a high profile character witness turned up for what he expected to be a formality. He got sentenced to two years and his mate had to ring his wife to explain what had happened.
Luckily, his mate got the solicitor to issue an appeal straight away and then spent a small fortune on a Barrister who got the case thrown out of court in a matter of weeks. I guess there’s a moral to this story which is never do the decent thing and piss in a toilet, just piss in the corner of the room and do a runner in the morning. Either that or spend the money and get en-suite and never skimp on legal fees.
I suppose the male readers of this will think poor twat and the female readers will think he got everything he deserved and was lucky to get off on appeal. Funny old world innit?
Hopefully nothing like that happens this weekend but you never know.
Many thanks to all who left a good luck comment yesterday. With hindsight, there were a couple of hands that I should have grown a pair and got involved in.
We’d been playing about thirty minutes when, with QQ, I put in a small raise to be then re-raised all in. I had been dealt QQ the hand before and although I guess this isn’t the case, I always seem to get the cards I need one hand later. You know the scenario, 66 and the flop comes JQK then the very next hand the flop is 6 3 A. I thought long and hard before folding but now in the cold light of day I should have just pushed and prayed to Poobah the God of gamblers. Never mind, there’s always next year.
All the best folks and catch you later.