16.30 was the time stated, but the coach was really for 17.30 so 3 lagers before the coach journey. On the coach there was copious amounts of lager, cider, vodka and gin. We were all pissed before we got to Newcastle some 5 hours later. Comically the driver was not worried by any antics and allowed us to smoke on the coach too!

My brother in law allowed his wife to pack his bag and she packed a bright pink holdall, this went down quite well, even the driver threw it in a bush rather than allow it in the luggage hold.

Checks in to the hotel and went straight out to a club right across the road. Stayed there until about 1am after diversity had made a guest appearance and met the Gestapo in the lobby of the hotel. I strolled in past a few people and got into the lift, when a member of staff asked me to get out of the lift. I said I am a guest, no, I going to bed. The next thing I know I am back in the lobby after a big bully of a security guard removed me from the lift. They said they wanted my name and room number, I said I am a guest there’s my key. Still they refused to let me go so I demanded the manager. He came and said that as they have 3 hotels in the city they need to check my name incase I am at the wrong hotel. I asked him “DO I LOOK FUCKING STUPID” , no sir, he replied but I need your name all the same! I gave him my room card and told him to get it from that! Snottily he gave it back having checked it and allowed me in to my room! Fucking morons.

Next day we had a ride on the metro to south shields, a small seaside town some 6 miles out of the city. We did go carts, dodgems and then the pub for more beer and a meal. Luckily enough it was an Italian restaurant attached to the bar so the food was excellent.

We met back outside the hotel at 8.30 to go out for the night and Craig, my bro in law who was the stag was decked out in full cockerel suit! Heading into town we met plenty more stag and hen parties, chose firstly the wrong pub, what a shithole that was. We then went to Flares, a 70’s club but as it was 21 or over, a few could not get in. It was a shit hole and standing still for more than a few seconds meant that your feet were stuck to the carpet. We all met back up at liquid, the original club by the hotel that we used the night before.

I had the usual honey monster decide that I was fair game and luckily by the end of the night she had pulled some other unfortunate and probably more pissed than me guy. That was a lucky escape.

Some local crazy tart decided to throw a pint over my head for no apparent reason – why do I always attract them?

For some unknown reason I was approached by 3 separate people and asked if I was Frankie Dettori, weird that, as I am normally mistaken for ex Chelsea and Italy legend Gian Franco Zola. Sadly, I am also sometimes mistaken for a chuckle brother!

First time in years I stayed in a night club until chucking out time.

Only other weird thing of note was the paper shop by the hotel that turned into a kebab shop by night. They simply covered the news and sweet displays with old cardboard boxes and turned the fryers etc on. The cheeky bastards continued to sell fags, however, at a highly inflated price!

Great weekend and the hangover is gone.