Pilot celebrates impending marriage with a wake.

Finnegan’s Wake, to be correct, is the chosen venue for Flight Commander Ben Cluley’s liquid take off.

So come 8 o’clock our merry band are gathered in said Alehouse, and it being friday are surrounded on all sides by countless Hen Nights. (I do believe that these are now designated, because the ladies come from all parts of the country, as Hen Weekends.)


Anyway the prize for most original attire, not your usual pink cowboy hat and fluffy bunny crap, came in the shape of Emma’s Pot Noodle Weekend.

These girls from The Valleys came as miners. Overalls, hats, lamps, blackened faces and the obligatory Pot Noodle cup to quaff their Bacardi Breezers from. Nice one. And all with “Fuel of Britain, isn’t it” on the back of their sweaty miner’s vests. Lovely.


At 9.30 we venture out into Hades (Victoria Street) where The Liquid Rooms ar filling up with skimpily dressed girls, most of whom have probably been at the liquid for the past couple of hours.


Luckily it’s only 20 or so yards down the street to our next port of call, Kushi’s curry emporium.


Inside the clatter of plates and chatter of punters is almost deafening. It must cater for three or four hundred at a sitting.


Soon our table is groaning with poppadoms, curry, naan and all the usual accompanying spices. The general consensus seemed to be it was fine fare.

Moves were now afoot to head off to Hen & Stag Central, otherwise known as The Three Sisters.


John The Chef drives off with the crew that live down the coast while Benny and The Jets troop off Grassmarketwards following the throng who all seem to be going to the same venue..

Les Trois Wummin is awash with strangely dressed groups, and the general atmosphere seems to one of gaiety.

The gaiety coming mainly from 6 guys from Bradford all dressed in matching womens’ dresses.


The music pounds out, communal singing to anything cheesey is mandatory. The bar staff try to cope with the demand for “mair beer pal” and the hen night costumes are wilting. The place starts to look like a bad fancy dress party.


After all that effort to look right too.


We stand there in the middle of the maelstrom wondering why we don’t come here every friday.

No, lets keep it for stag nights. But as Ben is one of the last to be betrothed it might be a few years before we’re back.

Lets wish the man all the best. But one thing, has anyone ever seen him fly a plane????

We know your cabin secret Benjamina.



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