Phils stag do in Nottingham was pretty entertaining although he did get off a little bit lightly. We all met up at New Street Station just before 11am and with the exception of Karl nobody thought it would be good idea to any boozing on the train. We arrived into Nottingham in good time, the sun was out and we hit our first pub the VAT and Fiddle. First pint went down very quickly and it was no time at all before we had entered the doors of the Fellows, Morton and Clayton.
After our second pint those that were staying over decided that it would probably be a good idea to go and check-in to our hotel. This took absolutely ages, the staff in the Jurys Inn in Nottingham didn't appear to have a clue what they were doing, to make matters worse they decided that we would have to pay a deposit on the rooms but didn't tell us until after we had put it on our cards that it would take up to nine days to get our money back.
So after we eventually managed to dump our bags and bits and pieces in the room we headed back to pub number three the Canalhouse where the daytrippers were by now two or three pints each ahead of us. Another quick pint ensued and then it was time to walk up the road to "England's Oldest Inn". As we got the beers in a plumber type person decided that it was time for him start pumping out foul smelling stuff out of the drains right next to where we are sitting. I'm not sure whether or not Paul has any sense of smell or enjoys the odour of beastly drains but he took some convincing to leave his seat and join everybody else who had run to the other side of the beer garden.
By now everybody was quite out of sync in terms of finishing beers at the same time in order for us to move around the map of boozers as planned. Phil and I had drained our beers an others had only just got served and when we bought another there was near revolt against the pub crawl plan. When it was time to move on the next pub we only took half of the gang with us, others stayed in the "Britains Oldest Inn" to finish off their beers.
As we walked into the Castle I had the horrible feeling that there was no real ale on which would have caused further consternation but there was a few hiding at the end of the bar. Eventually the others caught up with us but by now another breakaway group had formed who ran off to the Salutation Inn missing out the Roundhouse entirely. Another beer and one amusing incident with the statue of Robin Hood and the bouncer who had appeared out of nowhere later the group was fully formed again.
Well not quite, Dave's friend (who's name I cannot remember) was a little bit worse for wear and threw up right in front of the Barman as he was walking in to the pub. "I suppose you aren't going to let me in now, are you?" says Dave's mate to the Barman. No chance.
By now the majority of us are on our seventh, eighth or ninth pints depending on which breakaway group they had ran off with. It was time for the daytrippers to head off home and after much hippy-like soppiness from Karl they eventually left whilst the overnighters left to go the second from last pub on the map.
The Malt House has an little art gallery upstairs which Colin and Stephen insisted that I visited. As I did a man with grey hair came out and told me to get the fuck out. The Bell, from memory was a quiet boozer with real ale, it isn't any longer, inside they had flashing lights and loud music, something that most of the gang abhor. ;)
A couple more drinks and I decided that it was time we left to go somewhere else and dragged everyone up to the Old Angel, a pub that I spent rather a lot of my youth inside. Upstairs was doom/metal all dayer and I decided to have a look to see what was going on, I think we were supposed to pay but Richard, Colin and I just marched in regardless. The band that was playing were a shit hot Sabbath-a-like band from Leeds who impressed the three of us greatly.
Back downstairs the others were boozing, Phil had been told by his cock-rocker mates that Rock City was shite which meant that Phil didn't want to go there, or at least Paul didn't want to go there and he insisted on running off down the road to go and see if it was still open. Being half ten it inevitably was.
Here some people disappeared, off to find a curry house in Central Nottingham.
Left with me was Phil, Simon, James, Paul and Adrian and we went back to the Salutation where Paul promptly fell asleep. Oh if I'd only had a marker pen on my it would have been oh so different. The barman kept brining us biros but none of them would allow us to draw penises on Paul's forehead. We had to make do with lipstick on his lips.
Two more beers, some cigarettes, a sambucca and a tequila later it was closing time and we had to leave. Paul was now away and was running around asking random people where he could find a curry house, I had already told him that there was nowhere in Central Nottingham at that time of night that would still be open and the randoms also told him this. Eventually we found a chippy where I had a kebab with extra extra chilli sauce on top.
Then it was hometime. So it was a very boozy but ultimately very sensible stag do and Phil got away with not having to wear his Zardoz costume, also I had left my camera in the hotel room so apart from a few pics at the start of the day there is no documentary evidence of drunken behaviour. ;)
