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Published: September 26th 2009
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Sunday - “You’re Nicked, Son!”
Surprisingly, everyone wakes quite late again. Richard is beginning to drop his guard and seems relieved to be waking up still with both eyebrows and all his pubes. It is a tradition of British stag parties, and this probably happens in every other country as well, that the groom has to be humiliated. I’m not sure why, it just has to happen. This humiliation often takes the form of shaving his head, eyebrows or pubic hair, leaving him naked on a non-stop train to a distant destination, arranging for a very large lady to sit on him or other such initiation ceremonies. Richard is going to escape all of these but, unfortunately for him, the downside of his future father-in-law being an ex-policeman is that we have handcuffs.
We spend the morning by the pool and pose for a group photograph on a small bridge over the pool. Richard is feeling a bit delicate having spent all of yesterday drinking and his reactions aren’t too good; Henry has spent most of the weekend sleeping and preparing himself and he’s up for it! Before he realises what’s happening Richard is handcuffed to the
railings of the bridge.
The plotters can’t decide what to do next. Do we leave him handcuffed all day and go into town? What about the sun? Fortunately for Richard a kind-hearted lady feels sorry for him {
OK, that’s not true. We paid her.} and offers to put suncream on him. Unfortunately for Richard (and perhaps he has his own mother to blame for this!) we only have Asda Smartprice suncream and he is left looking a little unsightly.
Richard is released after about half an hour and we go off in search of lunch.
Surprisingly we find ourselves in
Arfur’s Bar again. It’s Sunday and guess what Paul has on the menu? Yes, it’s traditional roast dinners all round! Anyone going to this area of Magaluf and wanting the “English” experience could do a lot worse than Arfur’s Bar. Paul also serves us a “local” beer - he never does tell us what it’s called but it’s much cheaper than the imported lagers from Britain!
The rest of the day is again spent around the pool with the obligatory trip into Magaluf at night.
In the evening we have to say goodbye to Mark
who is flying home to deliver a lecture at 9a.m. the following morning - I wonder how that went, he wasn’t going to get much sleep? The rest of us head into town, most of us deciding that we are only going to have a couple of drinks and a quiet night. Surprisingly we stay out a bit later than planned and I am the first to wimp out and break ranks. I leave the others at 2a.m. and head off down Prostitute Street, walking briskly and looking straight in front of me, back to the hotel.
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