Alicante and The Stag Do of Truth

posted on October 3, 2009 in Stuff,Travel

Oh, go on then…

Marriage. Terrifying. I can’t decide what to have on my sandwich, let alone someone that you have to spend the next 7 years with. (I usually choose tuna). But some people are ready. Ready to move out. Ready to buy shoes with laces. Ready for commitment. Ready to grow up. These things were not on my mind when I ordered a couple of bespoke T-shirts from the Internet…


The Stag Do of Truth had already been going 5 nights by the time our group of 7 arrived. It brought the group up to a beer hungry 16, with an ultimate number of 19 people. Epic. The hungover/semi-toasted state that Stag and Best Man met us in pretty much set the precedent for the remainder of the Stag Do. We were quickly brought up to speed; where to get beer, which was your bed, what International Rules we were playing to and who was on what score. There were some incredible tales of bed manoeuvres (in the literal house moving sense of the word) but nothing that can be aired here.

The night of 1000 Coupes

The Night Of 1000 Coupes
If you’re ever organising an event, might I suggest the masks idea. Initially it’s the hilarity of having 20 of your mates’ grinning face ever so slightly larger than life. But then when you hit town, everyone wants to get involved. We had guys and girls of every nationality clamouring for some serious face action. We had our Night at the Roxbury. Enjoy Disco Stu’s excellent video:

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Pirate night

Seventeen pirates and a man sized parrot charging around a theme park in Benidorm. ARRR ME HEARTIES!! It was hilarious. The Spanish visitors to the park thought we were part of the entertainment. They were pushing their terrified 4 year olds in front of us to get a photo for the family album.


Benidorm proper was everything you imagine it to be. A foul mouthed comedian tribute act, Sticky Vicky, karaoke, hen dos, Riding the Bull, chips, gravy and an angry man that wanted to take on a parrot and 17 pirates. Was he mental? We had swords.

Stag Do Meets Hen Do

Final night

The evening was balmy with a pleasant breeze, Stu’s Ibiza warmup mix was providing the atmosphere, the whole Stag crew were spread across the roof terrace plus a sprinkling of Aussie guys, Polish people, 2 Kiwi girls and the Portuguese girls. It was a good place to be.

Joanna the Polish girl sat next to me and eyed my T-shirt curiously. “What is that word mean? On your T-shirt?”

I Love Clunge T-Shirts

“Oh, err, it’s a small village outside Manchester, we really like going there.”

“Okay” she said with raised eyebrow.

Mazpot sat down on my other side and leant over, “Did you just tell that girl that ‘clunge’ was a small village outside Manchester?”

I nodded. I know, I’m going to hell.

There were 3 Portuguese girls staying at our hostel. What with there being 19 of us guys, I hadn’t really spoke to them, but it had been mentioned that on our final night they’d be making some kind of special Portuguese drink. This sounded like something I would like, so I got involved.

There was a group of us with the girls. They had concocted their special Portuguese drink; a mixture of beer, wine and sugar, and had doled it out. It was a down in one jobby, but only after they had performed a song based drinking salutation.

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I chugged mine down. It was, as you can imagine, foul.

“Mmm, that’s really good!” I said. I wanted to keep them on side.

“I don’t think you like, it needs more sugar” said Sara, the smiliest of the girls.

The Portuguese girls

Stu and I got talking to them and challenged them to a game of Beer Pong. Not that I encourage excessive drinking, but Stu and I figured we would trounce them. After all they were girls and we were boys. It’s basic physics.

Twenty minutes later I stood swaying, holding the ping pong ball between thumb and forefinger struggling to focus on the cups at the far end of the table. Partly because there were 3 hot Portuguese girls standing behind the cups, but mostly because we’d had to neck 5 of our cups to only 1 of theirs. “What’s going on? This is pathetic! We’re supposed to be getting them drunk!”

I threw the ball. It missed.

Beer Pong on the Roof Terrace

Having been demolished at Beer Pong, Stu and I regrouped with the girls. “What are you doing tonight?” asked Sara.
“I think everyone’s sort of staying on the roof terrace, having a few drinks here.” I said.
I detected disappointment in her voice. I needed to rectify this poste haste. “Why? Do, err, you guys want to go … out? Because, yeah we could totally go out, I mean it’s Sunday so I don’t know if it would be busy but yeah we could find a bar or some bars but that sounds like a really good idea, but” I looked at Stu and myself  “we’re wearing shorts so we’ll just need to get changed, but stay here, because we’ll be right back, does that sound like a plan?”

The girls thought it did sound like a plan.

“Ok,” I pointed at the floor “stay here, we’ll be right back.”

Stu and I walked nonchalantly across the terrace to the top of the stairs. As we rounded the corner we broke into a clattering run, flip flops slapping down the stairs, giggling like school girls. We skidded to our door, fumbled the key and piled in. The room was a flash of jeans, shirts and deodrant as we threw on some slightly cleaner gear.”Quick, before someone steals our Portuguese!” We flew back up the stairs.

We arrived panting back at the girls. “You were 8 minutes” said Sara. Eight minutes? Guess we had spent too much time giggling.

It was only fair I let the rest of the group know our plans. “Guys!” I said “We’rejustgoingtogotoHavannahswiththegirls butifyouwanttocomethenyoucanmeetusdownthere!”

Three Portuguese girls, Stu, Dave and me (still giggling) walked off through Alicante to a bar. They were, in a word, delightful.

Us and Portuguese Girls


It was a great night. But it had been an epic do. Kudos to Best Man for organisation. After I got back people kept asking if we’d given The Stag a good send off, which I thought was an odd turn of phrase. The guy is not going anywhere. But he is embarking on a new adventure. As for me, I think I’ll stick to tuna sandwiches.

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Oh, and I also spoke to a friendly German girl.


  1. The Planning was good and everyone might have enjoiyed. Hosting a Bachelor Party or a Stag Party or Stag Do, you’ll need to do some home work pertaining to this celebration. Before you venture into host bachelor party please keep this in mind that you have to conduct a perfect party for the groom to be getting married soon, so you have to make his last day a memorable one.

    Comment by Sara — October 16, 2009 @ 11:34 am

  2. My thoughts exactly!

    Comment by Ciaran — October 19, 2009 @ 7:00 pm

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