Cigarettes and Alcohol: Confessions of a Stag Weekend

Cigarettes and Alcohol: Confessions of a Stag Weekend Read Free

Book: Cigarettes and Alcohol: Confessions of a Stag Weekend Read Free
Author: Phil Sloan
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street that would win any game of Scrabble hands down: Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal. It’s pretty surreal reeling around at this time of day and we probably look like some sort of homeless convention as we shamble our way up the road.
    We pass a few hotels that look a bit pricey so carry on looking for a pit for the night. One of the boys spots a sign in the window of a kebab shop down one of the side streets with a sign in the window saying ROOMS FOR RENT. Although it’s still early in the morning the kebab shop is already packed with hungry customers.
    ‘This will do,’ someone yells and we bowl into the shop to see if they’ve got room enough for the lot of us.
    ‘Hi guys!’ bellows the Turkish shish kebab seller behind the counter. ‘You English? You want rooms? You like Man United in the football? Here for a stag do, the ladies, the hash hish…….Come on in, I’ll sort you out!’
    The fella says he has six large rooms available and that we’ll all squeeze in just fine. He takes us through a side door and up the steepest set of stairs known to man. It’s like climbing the North Face of The Eiger only instead of being battered by evil snow storms and deadly ice falls we are assaulted by the thick smell of grease and burnt meat.
    The walls are tacky with grime and haven’t seen a lick of paint in a few decades at least.
    On the first floor he opens a door into the first of the bedrooms. It looks like someone’s been using it as an abattoir, there’s blood and what looks suspiciously like shit smeared up the walls. There’s no doubt that the food you can buy downstairs was slaughtered up here.
    The carpets are crawling with mites, covered in dodgy white stains and have not seen a vacuum cleaner, since, well, probably ever. The beds must have come from the nearest maximum security prison, with the thinnest, rankest mattresses with springs popping through. I don’t want to think about the other bodily fluids that this thing pretending to be a bed has been marinated in, let alone kip in it!
    We then get shown the bathroom and the lavatory. One room is an open sewer; the other is an open sewer with a shower head above it. The stench is worse than Satan’s arse with a very bad case of the trots. To get rid of the stink we can just have a smoke going all the time even when we are asleep, there’s nothing to worry about because there’s no chance of anything catching fire under a layer of rancid animal fat.
    ‘We can’t stay here. This is someone’s torture chamber. We’re gonna end up as a headless torso floating in the canal or under a big bag of lime in a forest by tomorrow,’ worries Kid D.
    ‘I don’t fancy getting buggered and flayed alive, I’m out of here,’ he continues whining.
    ‘Well I love the place,’ pipes up Deviant Boy. ‘What’s the damage chief?’ he asks the owner/ mass murderer of backpackers and daft English stags.
    ‘It’s ten Guilders each per night,’ says the kebab man, overjoyed he has some new guests or potential victims staying in The Hotel of Doom.
    ‘Tell you what mate, chuck in a free doner each per night and you’ve got yourself a deal my friend!’ and with that the accommodation and our fates are sealed.
    The guy has the front to make us promise that we would not smash the rooms up and that we will leave them in the state that we found them. No worries friend. They can’t get any worse.
    Bags get dumped, armpits sprayed, hair gelled and out we go to see how messed up we can get in The Dam.
    CIGARETTES SMOKED IN THIS CHAPTER: 11…..188 TO GO
    BOOZE BINGED IN THIS CHAPTER: 1 PINT, 2 BOTTLES OF LAGER AND A LIMONCELLO

 
    Chapter Five: The Amsterdam Whore Equation
     
    It’s Friday afternoon and we’ve stumbled on a fantastic bar off one of the canals near the red light area. It’s got some cool snake theme thing going on and the beer pumps are chrome cobra shaped and look well cool. This bar is ticking all the boxes needed for a top stag do:
    - Cold Beer
    - A

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