Stag Do Stripper history.
Of the dozens of Stag Dos I have had the sheer joy of partaking in, I would hazard a guess that there was a naked dancing lady present in three quarters of them. For all you naive folk out there a Stripper or Exotic Dancer is a person who gets paid to undress for the purpose of tantalising adult oglers usually in a venue such as a Lap Dancing/Strip Club. Other bold souls are mobile un-robers who bring their party to your party for a fee. (See Stag do To Lap Dance or not to Lap Dance. That is the question) Of the Stag Do’s I’ve been on the experiences have varied across a wide range (a naughty Rainbow if you will) From watching the Stag sitting on his hands in a gentleman’s club while a semi-nude exotic senorita grinded against his crotch like she was some kind of sexy Bear Grylls attempting to start a fire. To my all-time personal favourite which involved a Tipi with a dozen ogling revellers sitting with cross legs in a semi-circle as if we had regressed to our ‘Show and Tell’ Primary school days.
Allegedly in 1896 a Stag Party for an American chap called Herbert Barnum Seeley had a professional Belly Dancer geared up to do the ‘No Pants Dance’ until The Po Pos rocked up and rained on his wicked parade. A seed was planted and word must have spread across the pond as the ‘No Pants Dance’ became part and parcel of a man’s right of passage from the end of his reckless abandonment days into the world of the married responsible gent.
I shall start the countdown of my ‘Top 2’ Stag Do tantalising treasures with my sole experience of a Roly Poly Stripper. It’s a memory that I will never ever shake off. Bless her cotton cankle socks, she was no ‘oil painting’ by the average appreciator of the female form. She had just rushed across town from another Stag Do and was still baby oiled up to the max like a big ole basted Christmas Turkey with a plastic bag in tow. In all fairness she would be seen to some people as being fitter than a brand new kitchen, #feeders. I wish I could say she had a nice personality. She was a portly, 5 foot tall lady with kind eyes and a glistening brow. She was super savvy, as she said she shakes her booty at at least three different Stag Dos per weekend night and was cashing in around £100 per time. Throughout her surprisingly energetic routine she broke out the Whipped Cream and Baby Oil and really went to town on the Stag with extreme gusto. She laid him down and parked her bare derriere on various parts of the Stag’s body like a one woman ‘Slip n Slide’. He was a broken man and became a shadow of his former self for days after.
My favourite naughty de-robing occurred in afore mentioned Tipi on a summer’s night. It was so surreal as we all gathered on the floor and waited eagerly for a petite, limber, attractive lady to saunter across a field with a torch in one hand and an old school ghetto-blaster in the other while rocking her shiny green wellies and spangley two piece. As you could imagine it’s a tricky number to boogie and take off your clothes while operating a ‘portable lighting system’. Step up the Father of the Groom to-be who volunteered to be the ‘Lighting guy’. Fast forward two minutes and there was a semi-nude lady dancing to “The Venga Bus is coming” and a pleasantly plump middle-aged man on all fours shining a torch at her Lady Lumps for us all to appreciate. This was several years ago and even to this day whenever I see the ‘Lighting Guy’ there is a look between us which needs no words. We both know we shared something magical and memorable that evening that we will take to our graves. Spell binding, utterly ruddy spell binding…
In a nut shell
Put the hammer down and bring the noise. See ‘Omerta’ in our early Stag Do blogs to reinforce the old adage “Loose lips sink ships”.