I spent two hours explaining why I didn’t want to dance

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In Britain we have the stag do, while in America it’s the bachelor party. Canadians have a bucks party and in France they call it ‘enterrement de vie de garçon’ while in Germany it’s the ‘junggesellenabschied’. Glad I’m not reading that out on the radio!

Whatever you call it, it’s a group of men celebrating the last night of freedom for their friend, ‘the stag’, before he gets married.

To be honest, there’s nothing sacred about it. No, it seems like just an excuse to go away with your mates and get bladdered.

Until recent times, the stag do was held the night before the wedding. What a stupid idea.

I wonder how many weddings and marriages were wrecked by the state of the groom? And that’s just the ones where he managed to turn up!

My friend Mike will marry Tanya in a couple of weeks and the stag do took us to Bristol. Turns out it was the place to be for such parties last weekend.

At our hotel alone, a group of men wearing T-shirts saying Keep Calm, Get Smashed left at 11am to ‘start proceedings’.

They were swiftly followed by a large group of lads dressed as 1980s sporting icons. The ‘Gazza’ with the fake boobs and shell suit was hilarious.

All things considered, Mike got off lightly as he donned his Spongebob Squarepants onesie. Yes, you can get them in adult sizes, amazingly.

Then it was off to Chepstow and the races. None of us had a clue.

There were each-way bets of £2.50, until after a few ‘looseners’ we placed bets of £20 on horses with silly names. One of us won £90!

Back to Bristol for the obligatory curry, then more bars before moving on to my first-ever trip to an ironically-titled ‘gentleman’s club’.

I hate these sorts of places and spent the next two hours explaining why I didn’t want to go for a dance!

The only good thing about it was how lovely and warm it was inside. Then again, I suppose it has to be.

We eventually got Mike back to the hotel, still fully clothed and not strapped to a lamppost, by 2am.

Tanya will be pleased...