Theft, bribery, nudity – its a Safrican thing!

On Saturday night we decided to go watch the rugby at Schoeners. I thought after Friday night, we’d have a quiet drink or two and go home once SA had won the match. You know what thought did, right? He got out of bed to tuck his feet in!

Little did I know, we would walk into a bachelor party. And then befriend the bachelors. I had no intention really, until the NO. 1 Batchelor Bull himself came up to me (pissed) on command of his fellow friends, and complement me on my boobs. Usually I roll my eyes at this and mutter an annoyed “Thanks”. Tonight, however, I had a few in me, and was feeling pretty jovial as the DJ had heard it was my bday week and dedicated my favourite songs to me. I complemented him on his jug instead, taped to his arm. He was delighted with the pun and hauled me over to his mates to whom I was formally introduced. All thoughts of an early evening went out the window from there.

My dad and Trace were already on the dancefloor, Brother Darryn had escaped the house and studying and was well on his way to drunkdom. I drunkenly texed a mate, who arrived with a crowd of other mates, Sister Ash and I were challenged to a game of strip pool. Out of politeness we accepted graciously.

The Loser had to strip = the longest pool competition of ever. After about half an hour in, thrity million sunken white balls, three flicks of the stick and balls rolling all over the floor, Ash was clever enough to distract Bull #2 by bending over to pick up her bag while he sunk the black ball.

Here is the result:

Despite being invited to go home with the Bachelor Boys for coffee and cake*, Ash and I declined and blamed the parents. Eventually at 3am we decided to go home.

With shouts all the way up the road, ducking and diving from the cops who followed us with their lights off, we got to the gate and were followed home by Dad and Darryn who hooted all the way up my driveway.

They were pretty chuffed with themselves, and I only found out why once I started video camering them:

Turns out, when we pub crawled to the next place after Schoeners closed, they spotted their rugby mascots behind the bar, a Blue Bull for Darryn and a Shark for Dad. Somehow, Darryn distracted the barman while Dad swiped the mascots** and put them in the car. Also, the stole*** a flag from Schoeners while the rugby was on. I cannot take my family anywhere!

*Very nice guys, and had they not been celebrating a pending marriage one week away, or been a little better known to me, or not been so cliche’d about the ‘coffee’ ruse, I might have considered going home with them. Or maybe not.

**Warrick came to visit me yesterday and immediately recognised the mascots from The Pub. He is there all the time so he knows the place pretty well. Jokingly he says ‘Hey, those are the ones from xxxx’s! I nearly thought you guys stolen them!’ as he looks over to my dad, unsure of himself.

You could hear the crickets creaking…

***I have convinced them to take them all back to the respective owners of said pub, where they will leave the mascots in a box with a note of apology, which I will be writing apparently. I fail to see the humour the owners will have when they spot the cracks and chips in their beloved Bull, which was knocked over by Susie yesterday morning. In all fairness, my dad has glued it back together…