Never ask me to do your hen weekend photography

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Last week I went on a hen weekend.

We did some great activities including an assault course and a Thriller dance lesson, thankfully nothing too drunken or smutty!

I have a pretty good camera so I had been designated official photographer, and on the Saturday evening the girls were keen to see the photos, so we decided to see if we could get them up on the TV. So I popped the SD into the slot and heard it drop… inside the TV.

I felt terrible, all Charlotte’s hen memories were lost inside a television set.

We tried turning it upside down and shaking it out, but to no avail. There was no tool kit in the house so we had to wait until the next morning, when I ran to Robert Dyas to buy a screwdriver and we dissected the TV. When the SD card emerged from the panel we’d managed to remove from the back of the television, the bride’s mother and I both burst into tears.

Next time I’m invited to a hen party I will not be offering my photographic services.

Jez: This week I had a good laugh at Lou’s expense after she almost ruined her friend’s hen weekend.

My experiences of stag weekends are, on the whole, good.

My own took place on a canal boat chugging through the Hertfordshire countryside along the Grand Union Canal.

It was fabulous fun despite the fact we kept being shouted at for breaking the five knot speed limit.

I do remember one disaster that occurred when I was attending a stag do in Bournemouth.

We all went out clubbing, and after a top night of dancing we went back to my friend’s house where four of us were sleeping in his parent’s caravan on their drive.

I woke up at about 3am and could feel water spraying onto me.

I then saw a six foot burly Scotsman standing over me. I screamed and jumped out of bed to discover the chap was sleep walking and was dreaming he was standing over the loo.

Funnily enough I now have a fear of caravans.

I wonder why?