I was once taken to a stag “do” of a friend of a friend (ie I did not know the bloke) which turned into one of the most bizarre stag nights I have been on and led to many of the participants spending the night in the local casualty department.
My friend was a schoolteacher, his friend was another schoolteacher at his school, this story starts off so well doesn’t it, I mean, what sort of trouble could schoolteachers get into ?
The friend of a friend who’s stag “do” it was played rugby, quite well, for a club in North Yorkshire, and naturally he chose his rugby club for the stag “do” and of course all of the rugby club members were invited – you can feel this story slipping out of the “should be a reasonable night out” category even now can’t you ?
The only reason that my friend had invited me was to drive him there and bring him back, oh yes he tried to pretend that he really wanted me to go but I was under no misapprehension, I was the taxi driver, again.
It started off in that traditional method of all stag “do’s” in that the stag was drinking heavily when we arrived, we took of a drink ourselves and were then invited to take a seat while someone rigged up a cine projector to show a porno film on the wall of the clubhouse, nothing remarkable yet then…
After the porn was finished and we were all still seated in rows like a cinema the stag was pulled from the crowd, sat on a chair at the front facing us all and had his hands tied behind his back, then the chant started, and grew louder and more frenetic.
It sounded like “Elephant” and after a few repetitions it was obvious that yes, the crowd were chanting for an elephant, my friend and I glanced at each other nervously, for what sort of sordid bestiality club had we stumbled upon here in the wilds of North Yorkshire and where on earth would they find an elephant at this time of night ?
All was revealed as the bar manager arrived with a large pot elephant cradled in his arms, the club mascot which took pride of place behind the bar, it was a huge pot elephant and as we were soon to learn, it was hollow, and as we further learned, it took six pints of beer to fill it.
This was the tradition at that club – on stag “do’s” the stag had to drink six pints of beer from the elephant without stopping for breath or toilet break, surely an impossibility you cry and yes, as was further explained no-one had ever achieved the impossible task, but some had almost died doing so, it was great fun they told us, just watch and see.
And so we did, and to a tumultuous chant of “El-e-phant, El-e-phant” the stag had his head tipped back by one of his so-called friends and the beer pouring began.
Most of it went on the floor it has to be said but he didn’t do too bad, probably drinking two or three pints of it and when he was done they released him, now completely rat-faced to fall on the floor and lay in the other three pints thereon.
Well that was fun we thought, can we go home now ?
Well no actually, for the tradition had only just started for the tradition dictated that if one member of the team attempted the elephant then all had to do so, and so they queued through the night, filling the elephant with six pints of beer and each tipping his head back to have most of it poured all over his face until all in the room (except me and my friend as we’d hid behind a curtain) were completely blathered and the room was ankle deep in beer with several bodies lying in it, oh what fun.
But we weren’t finished yet.
Now with everyone soaked in beer there was only one thing left to do – run the communal bath in the changing rooms, everyone remove their clothes and all jump in the bath, even the unconscious ones, and so they did and me and my schoolteacher friend stood right at the back of the room and watched in shock and awe.
And then round about now it got worse.
Imagine a huge communal bath with around two feet of water in the bottom and twenty naked and very drunk men dancing in it singing bawdy songs – and now imagine what might happen if someone accidently dropped a beer glass in the bath and it shattered and no-one noticed.
Yes, thats what happened and the drunken dancing and bawdy song singing continued until someone noticed that the bath water was now red and as each one climbed from the bath with the beer disguising any pain they might have felt myself and my schoolteacher friend in our undrunken state could see that some of them had cut the soles of their feet ragged, so my undrunken friend called for several ambulances, we told the bar manager what had happened and then we left.
At least six of them including the stag and his best man (boy did they get a bollacking when they limped down the aisle the following week) had a dozen or so stitches in each foot and my schoolteacher friend had a quiet word with his friend later and asked that our name be removed from any other social gatherings that he might be having in future.