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The Stag!
By nealejames | September 24, 2006
This weekend was my stag weekend. Vilamoura was the destination and in true style, the boys had a plan for unrivalled, unnecessary, unabating embaressment. Of course as a Stag, your Best Man is the chap you can rely upon to look after you, make sure you’re tucked up in bed at a reasonable hour in reasonable state, with all your limbs intact. So it was extremely comforting when Steve (BM), sidled up to me at the airport Friday night and gave me the nudge and wink that no matter what happened, I only had to give him the word and anything I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with would cease immediately. So, Saturday night. The lads meet in the bar. Everyone’s chuckling, a few beers are flowing and I get presented with a parcel, the contents of which I have to promise to wear for the evening. Imagine my joy to be asked to strip off and don an Ann Summers fireman’s outfit, complete with PVC wrist bands and helmet. Half an hour later and Vilamoura’s motor palace inhabited harbour lays witness to me, parading in the kind of gear that wouldn’t look entirely out of place in a Village People tribute band. Steve followed, about 50 feet behind, shouting; “FIRE! HAS ANYONE SEEN A FIRE?” There are of course many photos from that night. I prefer to publish this version. Clearly this is me. Obviously. Undoubtedly.
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