It was Bob’s stag night on Saturday. More of a stag day/night.
In the afternoon we punted to Grantchester in the rain, had a barbecue in summer gales and the rain, and punted back in sunshine.
On the way back Chris punted us into a bush, which retaliated by grabbing his glasses and flicking them into the water. As we scoffed he took off his DMs and socks, eased himself in, and rummaged around with his toes. To our amazement it worked!
Mikey demonstrated his superior ginger scottish mountain goat abilities by successfully performing the bridge jump thing.
Back at the millpond we sat in the sun for a while, and were gatecrashed by an unrelated and entirely unsober hen party. They claimed to be from “upmarket Essex”, proved by acts of a chav nature plus some casual racism. We scarpered to our next venue, the Kingston Arms.
From there to the Golden Curry, where the staff knew it was a stag night and consequently seemed to spike Bob’s food without any prompting. They also gave him an Indian cocktail, the complete ingredients of which were kept secret but included cherry brandy. I can confirm that it was disgusting.
After the meal, Bob’s other mates revealed the secret plan: a set of challenges. Completing challenges earned Bob more booze and the right to assign some challenges to others.
Via the Live and Let Live and the Locomotive most of us ended up at Coco, the nightclub formerly known as Toxic. Bob was paralytic.
Oh, yes: photos!