Ah, the noble art of the hen or stag do.
I say ‘do’, but of course we all know that doesn’t mean ‘party’ now so much as ‘do… you want to spend £800 on four days making small talk with the bride’s auntie over a set of inflatable genitals?’
My boyfriend having just returned from a stag weekend that saw him abseil down a cliff, climb back up it, fish for three hours and burn half the skin off his forehead while I’ve been signed up for bridesmaid duties twice in the same month, I’ve suddenly realised that it all starts now. We are teetering on the precipice of Wedding Falls, waiting to jump in and be dragged along for the next decade by a current of hilarious costumes and Mr & Mrs games.
Right now, it’s all enthusiastic whooping and looking at impractical cottage lets in the Quantocks – by the time the last friend makes it up the aisle/jetty/path to a fairy-lit yurt, we will be seasoned pros, able to whip together a bespoke weekend of personalised bonding with one hand while the other snaps up the third cheapest item on the gift list. Either that or we’ll be weary, bankrupt husks of people who need hip replacements from repeatedly doing the Macarena drunk.
While we wait to see which is true, I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a few original ideas with which to wow the stags and hens in YOUR life…
Five things to do on a stag or hen party
1. Take a tour of a biscuit factory! Explain that it’s a special occasion and they might let you stick your faces in the vat where the custard cream filling is made.
2. Go on a silent retreat at a convent or monastery. This has the combined benefits of de-stressing the bethrothed, ensuring you don’t have to talk to their awful cousin from Kidderminster, and making any “what happens on the stag/hen stays on the stag/hen!” rules both guaranteed and completely pointless.
3. Volunteer at a city farm! Your stag might SAY he wants to go paintballing in Slovenia, but you can see in his eyes that what he really wants is to feed a baby goat with a bottle.
4. Get a private medical check-up! Mediterranean minibreaks are all very nice, but deep down wouldn’t you all rather splurge on finding out if your family history of diabetes has caught up with you yet? Then you can all go to dinner and order cholesterol-appropriate meals to celebrate.
5. Pretend to have arranged a top-secret surprise celebration that is SO top-secret and SUCH a surprise it doesn’t actually happen until 2025! At which point your wedded friend will either be a) divorced, b) so exhausted from years of childcare and dinner parties and weekend trips to Ikea that even a night in Oceana having party blowers tooted in their face will seem like heaven, or c) not really your friend anymore. Result.