How does it feel to be responsible for the most important day of a woman’s life? Tamryn Kirby was one of the UK’s leading wedding planners, and as such, has seen it all. Here she gives Confetti a glimpse at some of the most heart-warming stories along with some invaluable hints and tips for brides to be.
The funny thing is, brides always worry about their blokes going to stag dos – but clearly hen weekends can be just as dangerous. Yet while I’m aware of a couple of brides who had snogs on their hen dos, I get the impression that it is largely their married friends who act the worst – with premeditated plans to pull or behave outrageously.
I remember one bride’s friend who was a lawyer in London, but ran down a high street in Newcastle with her top off she was so drunk. There must be other stories but I don’t think people always told me the truth about their hen nights. I was like the ‘wedding mum’, and they assumed I might judge them on whether it was all right to be married. They wanted me to think they were perfect. I heard about one hen who decided to host a sedate dinner party at her aunt’s for her hen night – only for it to descend into chaos. Meaning well, a few of her friends had thought it would be fun to organize a surprise stripper to liven up proceedings. On the night, the guy was actually two to three hours late, and knowing that she had some sort of ‘surprise’ coming, the hen Felicity was clearly getting nervous. Finally, after her friend Jess made several irate calls to speed him along, this massive muscle-bound blond guy arrived and announced that he needed to get ready.
Jess sneaked him upstairs and waited … and waited. At last she ventured into the room, to find him dressed as his alter-ego Butch ‘Biceps’ Cassidy in a cowboy outfit, complete with chaps and naked bum cheeks. She had no idea what he’d taken, but he seemed to completely wired and was frantically doing press-ups. Beginning to suspect it was all a terrible idea, she coaxed him downstairs, where he set up his ghetto-blaster. Switching it on, he pumped out some kind of nasty dance version of ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’, which sounded like the Smurfs, and proceeded to lasso his way into the front room.
When Jess had booked him, we’d specifically asked for him to just strip and not grab anyone, but he clearly had different ideas. After running around the room manically thrusting his groin at everyone, the first person he targeted was seven months pregnant. As he tried to straddle her, she shrieked, and the rest of the hens yelled at him to get off. So he pounced over to the hen’s aunt, a woman in her sixties, and gyrated against her. Next, he grabbed the shyest girl in the room and practically pushed his crotch in her face while placing her shaking hands on his buttocks.
‘So is this a birthday?’ he droned. ‘No, it’s a hen night,’ someone snapped.
‘Well, where’s the bride?’ he asked, but Felicity had already wisely seized her moment and dashed out of the room. With the shy girl looking close to tears, Jess stood up and started to clap frantically.
‘Well, thank you, Butch,’ she chirped. ‘We’ve all enjoyed the show.’ There was a big round of applause, but Butch looked really put out. ‘But I haven’t even stripped yet,’ he huffed as Jess ushered him out the room. He wasn’t planning to leave quietly.
‘This is a rubbish hen party,’ he was heard shouting at Felicity’s aunt, who was trying to calm him down. ‘What’s wrong with you all?’ Oh dear.
Confessions of a Wedding Planner is published by Headline and is available to buy at any good bookshop or at Amazon.
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