Public whipping

The last time I visited Glasgow was for my birthday but I looked forward to going again to be best man for my round-glassed mate Andy and make him safe during his stag do. Not much planning needed from me really as the groom with the clipboard and military itinerary had everything under control, even the statistics of preferred lap-dancers.

Off the train, to the hotel to change into our costumes which consisted of fruit-pastel coloured jockey T-Shirts and hats. It felt good to look ridiculous since the last time I dressed up but I was glad I wasn't the groom as he had the full jockey outfit on including whip and boots. I'm pretty sure he already had the whip and boots, he seemed so comfortable in them. A confident man in boots. I suppose anyone carrying a whip will have confidence, even his walk was very much in the style of a man with a purpose.

So in all our glory we trotted off to Ayr races to win absolutely bot-all on the horses. It didn't matter as it was such a good laugh, becoming the centre of attraction for all the ladies wishing to get their photos taken and caress Andy's whip. It's amazing how those ladies managed to actually look more like the horses than the horses running.

A few drinks later it was time to go straight to the Glasgow night life and see if we could understand any Scottish accents at the Comedy Club. The Scottish accent is just one big blur and even more so under the influence so most people resorted to sign-language and shouting. Infact some people from other groups did a lot of shouting and talking during the comedian performances. They were slowly told to leave over a period of about an hour through heckling and basic put downs from the stand up. We all agreed they were arseholes by clapping them out of the venue.

Without the costumes this time we still got noticed. It must have been the 15 jam-jar glasses we all wore. Towards the end of the night things seemed much easier in those glasses, the world made more sense. Passers-by didn't judge you for looking disabled. I put this down to the fact that a lot of hard-nosed Glaswegians do actually look retarded. For that reason I felt as comfortable as Andy did wearing his long black slender boots.

Overall a great time and great way to celebrate. Being best man meant I could call all the shots though I'm not one to make a fool of the groom, he managed that himself.