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The Best Man Diaries – Jamie (3/6)

by | 31 August 2016 | Hen & Stag

This entry is part 3 of 6 in the series Best man diaries

Following on from my previous Best Man blogs, today I’m going to be reviewing my second of three stag dos for this year. And this one was a right cracker.

Our Stag on this occasion is not dissimilar in character to JD from Scrubs, only without the luscious locks and with a little extra padding around the mid-section. This is Jamie. We call him Veg for reasons that are far beyond my capacity to care. Fair warning, you may never be this good looking.

Strangely erotic, don’t you agree?

But the really important person here is Daz. Daz has a tendency to drink too much beer, eat too much fatty food and, possibly as a result of said beer and food, simply doesn’t care what anyone thinks. This is a useful trait if you’re planning on kidnapping your stag and ferry him to the other side of the country without telling the bride-to-be, which is highly recommended if you’d like a fast-tracked removal from your position as best man.

I never said we were good at fashion.


Daz is a practical joker and a schemer, fueled by many nights of boredom and a love for all things Jackass. This is a combination that could have only resulted in two very different outcomes – the most disastrous weekend ever, or a jam-packed weekend of insanity. Fortunately the groom took his kidnapping rather well (okay, so by kidnapping we mean that we managed to get him out of work an hour early and ambushed him at a pub before driving him for four hours to an unknown location (Plymouth)), and he only had three or four very angry phone calls from his bride-to-be. She was probably wondering what the empty feeling below her thumb was.

Despite Daz’s chaotic mind and his tendency to change plans, he did a great job of writing lengthy emails that only a few of us bothered to read. Fortunately some of us did read the emails and as a result knew where we were going. He was very particular about details and didn’t mess around in getting money off of people.

Whilst for Adam’s stag do, the decision on where to go trumped what could be done there, Daz’s decision to travel to Plymouth was for a very specific reason – the activity that he had planned there seemed to only exist there. Daz didn’t ask anyone what they thought or what they wanted to do. He decided early on and asked if people wanted to get involved, if they did – great. If they didn’t, never mind. More fun for us.

The Weekend

It’s a long drive to Plymouth from Essex. Especially if your stag needs to stop several times because you keep filling him up with beer.

An Indian

Another stag-do, another Indian. This is a pretty good staple meal for a stag-do. People seem to enjoy it, and everyone sort of knows what they’re getting. I for one will be veering away from this tradition slightly I think. Whilst I enjoy a good Indian, I also like to buck the trend.

Just so you know, this formation is generally frowned upon in clubs.


Most university towns have a great night life. As a man who likes pubs over clubs, I highly recommend Norwich or York. For clubs as your go-to drinking spot, Portsmouth and Brighton have fairly vibrant cities with a lot to offer. Plymouth isn’t too shabby, but we found a lot of the clubs were expensive and most of the pubs were closed. We had an easy night first night and took some drinks back to our hotel.

A Day of Activities

Just in case any of you were thinking it might be a really cool idea, I’m going to stop you in your tracks. Hiring a fully Back to the Future rigged Delorean for a punchline such as “Sorry, I’m late” for £750 is not a sensible expenditure. Yet, that is what one member of our party felt would be a great idea.

To be honest, having not spent £750 on such a ridiculous novelty, I found the stunt quite amusing. Not £750 worth of amusing. But I smiled and shook my head at my lunatic friend.

Making the most his time with the Delorean, you see.

Once we’d all lost interest in the Delorean and the poor quality speakers that blared out random parts of the movie, we headed into Adrenalin Quarry, where we were treated to a day of coasteering, unnecessarily scary cliff swings and a fancy zip-line. I’ve never been coasteering before, but I’d highly recommend it.

On top of that we were treated to the activity that Daz had brought us to Plymouth for. The Blob.

The Blob is, quite simply put, a big yellow inflatable that acts much like a see saw, in that when something hits one end, the other end flies up, along with whoever might be standing there. The Blob is not for the faint of heart, nor the unfit. It takes a serious amount of energy out of you, and when the guys have you playing King of the Blob, you’ll be simultaneously begging to get back on and to have a moment to catch your breath.

Me and My Poor Life Decisions.

More Drink

What do you do at night when you’ve run out of activities? Eat, sure. But then you drink. Plymouth’s key watering holes are somewhat spread out, and perhaps you should research what bars are best before you head out to hit the town. We unfortunately ended up on Union Street, which wasn’t too bad, although someone did try and pick a fight with me and I’m the least fight-y person you can imagine. I’m a writer for heaven’s sake.

The night ended quite quietly in a casino with the bloke who hired a Delorean complaining that casinos are a waste of money. Well, he isn’t wrong.


I ached for days after this ordeal. Daz managed to pack a lot into this weekend and he topped it off with the not entirely appropriate kidnapping of the stag. If I can ensure that my stag’s weekend is as good as this next month, I’ll be a very proud man.

It’s worth noting that, generally speaking, kidnapping your stag is frowned upon. And given that the Bride to be was not best pleased (several angry phone calls later), it may be worthwhile keeping the bride in the loop, should you decide a kidnapping is necessary.

Have you been on the (unfortunately named) Blob? Have you had a stag do in Cornwall? Or anywhere else for that matter? We’d love to hear about your misadventures. Just drop a comment below, you know what to do.

About the author

Paul Macklin

Paul is your friendly neighbourhood poet/cynic. He believes in story-telling, curiosity and peanut-butter sandwiches and he spends the vast majority of his time writing stuff. Paul learnt how to write stuff at Portsmouth University where he earned himself a Masters degree in writing stuff. Neat huh? Paul also hates writing in third person.


Hen & Stag The Best Man Diaries – Jamie (3/6)