"My Boy TM"
was on the doorstep at 7.30am and we set off to Battle (via a
couple of geocaches en route). My brother's stag day was starting
with a round of golf. We'd been told to get there for 8.30am; we did.
Everyone else arrived at 9am. Beer was handed out, and after a
slight altercation with an exploding golf ball we set off on a round
of eighteen holes which in theory should have taken about four hours.
It took six.
I was caddying; and our
group was last to set off. I'd not met the rest of our group before,
but they were all good blokes and we had a good laugh as we went
round. We met up with my cousin at the third hole; he had a bottle of
rum. Very nice if you like that sort of thing. Personally I do. And
the rum did help with the golf.
Don't get me wrong; we
had a good fun time. But I was put off golf. Battle golf course was
chosen for our day because it is a quiet golf course; hardly anyone
else uses it and so we could be raucous without upsetting any normal
people. But the reason that no other golfers use the course is
because it's so dreadfully maintained. There were no golfing greens
on the course at all; they were all browns. And we spent so much time
searching for lost balls in unmowed grass and un-raked-up grass
clippings.
I think it's fair to say
that searching foor lost balls added two hours to the time it took
us to go round; other groups gave up. Mind you as we went round we
were finding shot glasses of rum which had been left for us. They
went down nicely.
Once back at the club
house I polished off the last of the rum and we all had a plate of
ham egg and chips each; I washed mine down with a bottle of ale. We
then adjourned to my brother's house to get changed, and then went on
something of a pub crawl around Hastings Old Town.
We started off in an old
favourite pub of mine - the First In Last Out. A couple of pints
there whilst most people arrived, and then we moved on to the Jenny
Lind where the star of the show attempted to have sex with a statue
of a mermaid. Some Samuel Smith's in the Hastings Arms got guzzled
whilst we staged an arm wrestling contest. And a pint of Whitstable
Bay went down very nicely in the Pump House.
By now we'd had an
elegant sufficiency (burp!) and being a stag do it was
decided that we would go to the strip club. There's no denying that
this had been on the cards sincce the start of the evening. There's
also no denying that I was hoping we wouldn't.
Hastings strip club
was.... well, the only word I can really use is "dire".
It cost five pounds each to get in. And the strippers... well, there
weren't any aactual strippers. There were half a dozen young girls
(who barely looked old enough to have left school) standing
around in skimpy saucy bras and knickers (and absolutely nothing
else) all trying to entice the punters to give them twenty quid
for a lap dance. Once such young lady came up to me, started rubbing
her tits up my chest and asked me if I would like to go to a private
booth with her. I told her (in all honesty) that I had a
daughter who was at least five years older than she was, and that for
all that she was a very attractive young lady all I actually waanted
was a kebab and a bit of a kip. I donn't think she was at all
impessed with that.
I then fell asleep whilst
two bare chested teenaged YTS girls licked each other whilst pole
dancing.
I was woken to find that
I hadn't actually missed much, and we went for that kebab. I do like
a kebab. And after completely failing to hail a taxi we walked back
to my brother's house wherre we sat in the garden talking rubbish
until after 2am.
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