As I write this, Wimbledon’s over for another year (thank the fucking lord), and England are as good as crumbled in the cricket. This means only one thing: We’ve hit July, the football season starts up again! The big game this weekend is a charity game at Colwyn Bay, featuring celebrities (hey, they have Wikipedia articles, they are celebrities) including Ian Rush, Alan Kennedy, Bruce Jones and Amazing Ex Bay Frontman Deiniol “He Used To Play For Man U” Graham and rubbish ex Bay manager Peter Davenport. It’s at Eirias Park, and it’s £4. I wouldn’t mind going, but it depends how hungover I am.

Yes, Saturday night will be my first Stag Do Ever, as one of my mates is tying the knot in little over a month. I’ve never been on a stag night. I’ve been to two weddings, and no stag do’s. I’ve only got movies and TV to go on. Movies and TV tell me I’ll be snorting coke from the backside of a cheap hooker on Saturday Night. Knowing the people who I am going out with, I highly doubt it.

I don’t think I’ve even seen a Stag Do. Head to Llandudno every Saturday night and you’ll see a Hen do within 20 minutes of entering Weatherspoons. I dunno, people just don’t go on Stag Do’s, or blokes don’t dress up. I suppose it’d be a bit odd for us to go around Liverpool dressed as coppers (particularly when a couple of us are coppers – I’d probably spill beer down their top or something).

I have been warned though – “What happens on the Stag Do, stays on the Stag Do” – which I’m translating as “We will go out for drinks, but we won’t tell anybody exactly what happens, as we’d like to keep an air of mistyque about it, oh and bring your female cheat sheet just to make it look like one of us could get laid this weekend”.

So no blogging about it, sorry. How will you cope?

And on that rhetorical question, I bid you a good weekend.

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