1 whistle = you stop talking
2 whistles = you assume the position of your soldier
3 whistles = you hit the deck
A fun idea? I suppose, but not when you're being told safety instructions about going on a boat. Not when you're in a nice pub at lunchtime in Lymington. Not when you're in a busy curry house on Saturday night in the most stag and hen infested town I have ever been to.
What with my upbringing, education, friends I have surrounded my self with and general all round snobbiness, I never thought I would have to go to a stag weekend like that. Everything I have strived for was washed away by being in the Walkabout in Bournemouth. I hope it's the last one.
Not to say there weren't laughs. Piz Wai, Dirty Dancing, Meduri, Oliver Reed. But I'm not a fan of whistles, sunburn, outfits and funnels.
The irony being I was more drunker and stayed up later in Sofia but had a much better time. Take note: don't force me to drink. I'll do it anyway, so don't force me.
Here's looking forward to the third weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment