The Stag
It’s Monday morning and I’m in the office with a hangover from hell. I’ve just run to the toilet to chuck up half my guts. My face is a sickly shade of green, a bit like an alien’s, except my right eye is also black, and my hands won’t stop shaking. The noise of the photocopiers and printers ring in my head. My hangover is compounded because everyone in the department is asking me “Where’s Philip?” and I’ve just received an e-mail from the Managing Director of the firm saying he needs to speak to Philip urgently and asking if I know where he is. I don’t know what to do. My head feels like it might explode. Why is everyone asking me where Philip is? This is why.
When I started in my new job a couple of months ago I was introduced to Philip. Philip, I would guess was in his early thirties (about 10 years older than me) and he didn’t talk much. I thought he seemed a nice guy though and he was very helpful in showing me round the office and telling me where everything was. He even saved my life one lunch break – I started choking on a banana, yes a banana, and Philip ran to my desk and performed the Heimlich manoeuvre on me, unblocking my airways just as I was turning blue.
So I liked Philip. Nobody else in the office seemed to.
Everybody thought Philip was either boring or arrogant because he didn’t talk much, had a side-parting and didn’t seem interested in trying to make friends. I just thought he was a nice guy, very conservative, and that it was unfortunate for him that he was low on confidence and a bit shy. I didn’t hold it against him that he wore cords and a knitted jumper on dress down Friday.
Anyway, I got to know Philip a bit better. We started having lunch together in the kitchen and one day I even called him “Fil” – I think this shocked him a little bit but I don’t think he was offended. In fact I know he wasn’t offended because the next day he e-mailed me (even though we sit next to each other) asking me “Jonathan, would you like to come to my stag do this weekend – Philip.” I didn’t even know he was getting married but he was asking me on his stag do! Don’t get me wrong, I liked Fil, but he wasn’t the type of guy I would normally socialise with outside work. I didn’t exactly think that the Stag Do was going to be totally mental, from what I’d seen of Philip at work he was hardly a wild card and it was unlikely that his mates would be. I had a booze up planned for the Saturday night but I didn’t want to hurt Fil’s feelings, and he had saved my life, so I looked over to his desk and said “count me in.” He looked a little embarrassed and went a bit red but he managed to mumble “that’s great, it should be a fun event.”
The stag do was to be held at the local racecourse and we were meeting at midday. I drove down and arrived at about ten minutes past 12. I didn’t imagine there would be much drinking with Fil and his straight laced chums and I still planned to meet up with some mates in town that night if all went to script.
It was a big race meet that day and there was a marquee up in one of the fields next to the course. I passed the marquee on my way to meet Philip and the rest of the stag party at the race stand. SMACK!
I must have been knocked out for a bit. When I came round I found myself lying on the grassy field with a throbbing eye. I heard laughter in the background. Standing over me was Philip. But not as I knew him. “That was for being late to my stag do now get up and get yourself a drink in.” Jesus, I thought, Philip must be one of those people that completely turns with a few drinks inside him. I cautiously got to my feet and just about fell to the ground again - I was still dizzy. A few of Fil’s mates helped me to my feet. They were still laughing. “You must be Jon, don’t worry about Fil, the big man’s just pissed off that he lost 350 quid on the 11.35, he’ll get over it, he always does.”
I got a pint in at the bar and returned to see Fil belching loudly after chugging a pint of lager. Fil’s best man, Andy, called for silence. “Hush please, hush everyone. Now we all know we’re here today to make sure our Fil gets in as much trouble as possible today. Don’t worry the lapdancers are all booked up for tonight Fil.” Fil gave a big grin and thumbs up. “But as we’re at the race course, it’s time to set your challenges for this afternoon. Challenge number 1 is to blag a ride on one of the horses here today. Challenge number 2 is to do a lap of the course in this.” Andy pulled out a black, lace thong. “Easy” said Fil and he ran off towards the rider’s enclosure, leaving the thong behind.
None of us knew what he was up to, but he had been away for almost an hour and we were starting to get worried about him. Myself, Andy and one other guy, Derrick – I think, went round to the rider’s enclosure to see if we could find him. No sign. We then heard a commotion round the back of the enclosure and we went to see what was going on. There was screaming and shouts of “pervert” and parents shielding their children’s eyes and Fil emerging from the men’s toilets and running into a horse cart. Naked. He shut the door behind him. A panicked looking 50 something man shouted “That’s my fucking cart that he’s just gone into!” Seconds later there was a loud “NEIGGGGGGHHHHH” and the cart door burst open. The horse came charging out, looking petrified - I’m not sure if it had ever carried a pissed up, naked jockey before. “Challenge 1 complete lads, now for challenge 2.” Fil said. Andy waved the thong at Fil “At least take this.” Fil was already gone.
Fil and the horse careered round the rider’s enclosure and up past the side of the Grandstand. They were headed towards the racecourse. There was more screaming. I saw a little girl crying. The police had now been alerted and they gave chase. Fil reached the front of the Grandstand and veered right onto the track. I couldn’t believe it. The stand was full. There must have been about 5,000 people. We ran round to the front of the Grandstand to see what was going on. The noise was incredible, everyone could now see naked Fil on the horse. Some liked what was happening, some didn’t. Unfortunately for Fil the horse didn’t.
Myself, Andy and Derrick and 5,000 spectators watched open mouthed as the no doubt frightened, perhaps even embarrassed horse, went berserk. It was deadly quiet now. Nobody knew what was going to happen. The horse shook, kicked and bucked as Fil desperately tried to hold on to the reins. Fil went one way, his flaccid penis went the other. Everyone in the stand just stared dumbstruck at what was happening. Then there was a massive “NEEEEIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH” and the horse kicked up with it’s back legs as hard as it could. Fil had no chance. His naked body was buckarooed off the back of the horse. He catapulted up towards the blue sky, his body flipping over like a rag doll, and his penis and testacles flapping about willy nilly in the air. Then gravity took its toll and he careered headfirst, like a springboard diver, towards the ground. He landed on his skull. The crowd gasped. Fil lay motionless on the ground. Two policemen had run to the scene and now hovered over him. After a minute there were some signs of movement in his arms but I guess he was told not to try and move his legs. There was a delay. The stadium tannoy announced “Due to the unfortunate recent event, races will be postponed until the track is cleared.” Five minutes later an ambulance arrived. A white sheet was put over Fil to cover his body and he was carefully fitted onto a stretcher. He was wheeled into the back of the ambulance and it drove off. He had a police officer for company.
That was what happened to Fil. Now everyone wanted to know where he was! I couldn’t let him down by telling all our work colleagues what had really gone on, so I just lied that “he was in good form all night.” They weren’t to know that at about 1.25pm, Fil had been karted off to hospital with a police escort and that me and Fil’s buddies had all decided there was nothing we could do to help so gambled on a few more races, toasted Fil’s health and then kicked on to the lapdancers in town.
I can’t remember much else of the night because all the lads were big boozers and I was struggling to keep up. The boys were such good lads that we met up again the next day for an all day session in the pub.
The truth is, I don’t know what happened to Fil in the end. Nobody does. He could have broken his neck. He could have been arrested. Or he could be in a wheelchair AND in the nick. We tried to get in touch with him on Sunday but had no luck. We realised he must have left his phone at the racecourse, it wasn’t as if he had it in his jeans pocket when he was thrown off the horse.
All in all, a mental stag do. Totally off the charts.
My hang today is terrible but I don’t want to imagine what Fil’s is like. Fingers crossed for him eh?
