Cigarettes and Alcohol: Confessions of a Stag Weekend Read Free Page A

top shelf loaded with Spirits
    - Pool Table
    - Juke Box (With Banging Top Tunes)
    - Fruit Machines
    - Food
    - Drugs
    In the drugs category they have a dealer in the corner sitting behind a counter chock full of gear. It’s like being in a sweet shop for adults and offers the best ‘pick and mix’ on the planet.
    They serve grass, resin, skunk, super skunk and some trippy ultra-strong variety of weed called purple haze. The local Dutch lads take their drug smoking seriously and sit with a coffee and enjoy their buzz. They know alcohol + spliff = game over.
    The mad English attack the Stella Artois and the gear together. This is not a good idea and will only result in a state of unconsciousness. It’s a fatal mistake to ask the dealer to ‘give me the strongest shit you’ve got man.’ He will and you will regret it. Probably some weed with LSD mixed in it which will massively mess your noggin up for the next week.
    Also on offer in this most excellent establishment are ‘space cakes’, brownies baked with cannabis resin in them for the non-smoking wimps amongst us. These are a major error again because they are super strength and will send you into a coma before you know what hits you.
    They also sell cannabis teabags to enable you to eat a ‘space cake’, drink cannabis tea and smoke a joint all at once. This will definitely get you hospitalised so make sure you’ve bought some fully comprehensive travel insurance.
    We all skin up and start puffing hard. This is a ‘brown bar’ as you are allowed to smoke gear in it. Why they are called ‘brown’ is beyond me as the walls are yellow with nicotine and the place reeks of the sickly sweet smell of the grass.
    But we love it. The tunes are pumping out the juke box and the pool table is seeing some hustler action. This is the life. I’ve got a massive buzz on, the chat is racy and the laughter comes thick and fast: I’ve not got a care in the world. It’s fair to say that not a single gram of fuck will be given today.
    Meanwhile Kid H has been looking at Kid I for a while and says ‘I know you. I recognise you now.’
    ‘Course you recognise him you plum you’ve been drinking with him all day, he’s Kid G’s cousin,’ Kid C mutters.
    ‘No ,’ Kid H continues ‘I know you from before the weekender.’
    He is staring hard at Kid I who says he has not got a clue as to where they might have met before.
    ‘You live in the village and you drive a silver 4 x 4 thingy don’t you?’ Kid H asks of Kid I.
    ‘Yeah that’s right but I am sure that our paths have not crossed before.’
    ‘You must recognise me. Have a really good shifty at my picture. Is my face ringing any bells yet?’
    Kid I has not got the faintest idea what Kid H is banging on about. In total frustration Kid H stands up, drops to the floor and starts rolling about making horrible noises. He is holding his arm at a weird angle and screaming in pretend agony.
    ‘Recognise me now you tit?!’ he yells while writhing about on the floor looking like an earth worm who is just coming up on an E.
    Kid H looks like he is having some sort of seizure or fit of some sort but none of the locals seem to bat an eyelid. Suddenly the penny drops for Kid I. You can almost see the light bulb that starts to glow above his canister. PING!
    ‘Oh Shit. Kid H I’m sorry mate. You’re the fella that I knocked off his bike a couple of months ago. I did not recognise you without your Lycra budgie smugglers on. Got to apologise but I’m sure the accident was your fault anyway!’ exclaims Kid I.
    ‘How do you work that out? I was coming down the hill on my bike on the way to work and you just pulled out of a side street without looking. I hit the front side of your car and went straight over the bonnet and cattle trucked my arm when I hit the ground. How was that my fault?’ questions Kid H as he gets up off the floor.
    ‘Well, if you had been driving in a car I would have seen you for sure. Anyway I did stop