Well here we are some 72 hours or so after Dan’s Stag Day on Saturday and I’m glad to report that he’s fully sobered up now. He’s also back to wearing his normal clothes… by his standards anyway! Only kidding Dan 🙂
So now that the alcopops have settled, the pictures vetted and stories of the day’s conversations shared, I thought it time to enlighten those present (and those not) as to some of the funnier moments of our Tour de Gower aboard the blue bus.
Now being somewhat of a lightweight in the drinking department, I opted for the safe option of a noon start to proceedings, rather than taking the hardcore option of meeting the majority of stags at 10:30 am for some breakfast.
From what I was told, breakfast consisted of two large baps filled with fresh, top quality cholesterol products – not too dissimilar from my brekkie pictured below.
With the carling/strongbow/stella/vodka/whatever (delete as appropriate) having started to flow, it was time to don the Dan’s Stag attire of white t-shirts for the day and head off in search of the Royal Oak Hotel in Penclawdd.
The early banter from some of the passengers on-board the blue bus suggested that the testosterone levels had already started to rocket and that the bus wouldn’t be the only thing considered ‘blue’ as the day unfolded. The excuses of “Well, he doesn’t get out much see” were already in full circulation by the time we reached stop numero uno.
The Royal Oak, well what can I say? It has some cracking views looking out of the Loughor Estuary from the front, and erm, some stunning views of someone’s kitchen from the beer garden. Oh yes and they don’t sell many (if any?) bottled beers.
One of our motely crue was so rude as to ask the barman for “a bottle of Sol please butt”. The rather disdainful look he got in return would have been more akin to someone asking if they could have your last 4 sheets of toilet paper when you’d just endured a severe bout of diarrhea.
After exchanging some pleasantries – and a wolf whistle – with a passing groom and bride (we had to point out the whistle was for the bride, as the groom seemed to think it was him) and giving Dan Biggar (of Osprey’s fame) a big wave, we boarded the bus for our next destination never to return to the Royal Oak again. Sorry but we couldn’t think of a reason why we’d want to!
Now The Greyhound Inn in Oldwalls, is what I’d call a proper country pub with a bit of character and most importantly an atmosphere.
Many of us were licking our lips at the thought of lunching here – due to a well tasty looking menu – but alas with the restaurant busier than a beach in Benidorm, we would have to make do with some liquid refreshments instead.
Thankfully there was a cracking choice of beers (including bottles!) available and large rear beer garden in which to enjoy them. This also provided us with a great team Dan’s Stag photo opportunity.
Alas no sooner had we had our photo’s taken and sunk our beverages it was time to head off in search of our next destination.
It was at this point in the day when we realised one major deficiency with our ‘blue bus’ – it had no friggin’ suspension (or at least it felt that way). It did occur to me that IF any of the passengers had been suffering from piles – which had recently rescinded – then the pothole pummeling would surely only serve to bring them back to their original painful position? Thankfully nobody commented on whether or not this indeed applied to them.
Perhaps the historic ruins of Weobley Castle or the rather unusual sight of some mountain boarders in the nearby field helped null the pain many of our backsides were feeling. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before we arrived of pub stop number 3 – The Britannia Inn in Llanmadoc.
The Brit is a wonderfully weird kind of place complete with it’s own aviary, rabbit run, children’s playground and beer garden overlooking the Loughor Estuary. It has a very rural, out of the way feel about it – but it is extremely welcoming.
With the stomachs starting to rumble and much alcohol having now been consumed, it was evident that the hazy fantazy period was well underway – aided by a rather scorching sun. Many others like I thought it was time to dine and opted for the following for £6.95 – which was described as Ham, egg and chips!
It was a disappointment to say the least and one really should have stuck with just some good old fashioned stodgy chips. David (Dan’s brother) managed to blag – or perhaps commandeer would be a better description – an order of 5 bowls of chips from the young eastern european waitress. Little wonder table 9 wondered what happened to their order then…
Still at least the resident beer drinking albino cat – which could quite possibly have belonged to Ernst Stavro Blofeld of James Bond fame – enjoyed eating the fatty gristle which I’d trimmed off the cold ham!
Dan: “Is that a skinny cat?”
Blofield: “I think not Mr. Bennett”
You can just imagine the number of pussy related gags that were aired at this point – none of which I will bore you with here!!
The barman at the Brit had the most amazing (in term of looks) Russian proverb tattooed on his forearm – the translation of which escaped me and everyone else at the bar. Mind you the two pin studs he had inserted into either side of his spine at the back of his neck said it all I guess!! Who’d have thought that there’d be a wee spot of Russian in deepest Gower 🙂
After much debate and an extended stay at the Britannia it was time to hit the road once again for our last scheduled stop on the Gower tour – the Countryman in Scurlage.
This part of the journey was without doubt the worst and merely served to remind us that we did indeed have a bus with no suspension. As soon as we arrived, the queue for the gents was a sight to behold and wouldn’t have looked out of place in a conga at an old people’s home.
A new pub meant a new hat, neck tie and footwear for Dan. In fact I think he wanted to join the nearby 30th birthday party – as part of the entertainment obviously.
The beer kept flowing as did the games of killer pool and darts, and suffice to say the accompanying choice of music on the jukebox got that bit crankier as well. From Europe to Dr & The Medics, A-Ha to Michael Jackson and perhaps most worryingly of all the Birdy Song!
Talking of beer and food, I was mightily impressed by the selection of tipples on offer – especially Magners on draught. The choice of food menu wasn’t bad either…
… but it didn’t stop me and a few others sneaking into next door for some pukka tukka to soak up the afternoon’s liquid refreshments.
By 18:30 it was time to depart the Gower and head off for the bright lights of the city and a return to basecamp in the Wig and Pen.
At was as this stage that a number of the troops were a wee bit worse for wear and took the sensible (if boring!) option of heading home. By the time we’d donned our number one’s (i.e. bestest shirts) and admired our glowing foreheads (thank you Mr. Sunshine) our numbers had dwindled to around 18.
From here on in things get more than a little bit sketchy as this media correspondent was well and truly in ciderspace. They say a video is better than any blog’s words, so with this is mind I’ll let this video snippet of Dan the Stag set the scene for the reminder of our evening…
Shortly afterwards a party of saga louts arrived to celebrate someone’s 80th birthday and so we thought it best to leave as we didn’t want any trouble 😉
So only 8 of us then made the long walk into town (via McDonalds) to Reflex for some bopping and other Wind Street, Swansea sorts of things.
To set the final scene, I’ll just use a few choice words/phrases and leave the rest to your imagination – giant cocktails, landing on one’s arse, nurses, dodgy dancing, shorts, pole dancing, peppermint and cheap vibrators. Those present ’til the end will know exactly what I’m referring too!
All in all it was a cracking day and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves immensely – especially Dan.
A big thanks as well to Captain Chris who organised proceedings and for all those that attended and made the day what it was. Thanks to those of you who followed on twitter as well – just a shame the #dansstag hash tag didn’t catch on.
And finally, apologies if I’ve missed anyone or anything off this little write up, but the combination of alcohol and age have taken their toll on my memory!
See you all on September 3rd 🙂