Here's Paulo's review of Bruce's stag weekend in Riga, Latvia:

Thanks all coming on the weekend, to "summarise" my highlights were....

Prologue

Flying 500 miles in the wrong direction on Weds only to be abused  by the worst weather the North Atlantic could throw at us whilst baggin' "Irish Munros", Daffy fell in a river but the creamy mutant seafood chowder swilled down with a couple of pints was sufficient to raise spirits and prepare for the main event.....

Friday

All coming together on Friday afternoon.  It was eventually becoming a reality, the Wetherspoons in Stansted provided much joy, Daff lost his boarding card and our windup backfired..... (err sorry).  The stealing of boarding cards appeared to be the flavour of the day, despite Bruce being cardless on the plane we still managed to get prime seating.  I nearly pissed myself waiting the eon for takeoff and only managed to get to the bog after I told the hostess I had a kidney disease and it was dangerous to strain my bladder... So after enjoying ridiculously priced Ryanair beer we met up with the Manchester posse Lex Plow & Damo in Riga. T-shirts were presented and the spare "munter" shirt was given to the barmaid, slightly harsh but more than comedy.  The "student" Angel's presence created much euphoria, Pluff being in there straight away trying to learn the Latvian for "Let me take you away from all of this".  Dumplings were to be the first Rigan dish of the day, en-route to the classy establishment Cuthbertson Senior and Junior were heckled with "baby f*ckers", a new insult hopefully never to be hailed again.  So we enjoyed the dumpling and lager for a couple of quid and ventured off to a rather classy bar where Elvises were in abundance, the beer mitt was surgically attached to the fist of booze and the Beefeater made frequent appearances.....

Angel came into her own in the next bar buying many drinks and succumbed to Faither's charms, accepting a drink from the gent.  I might be wrong but I think we then ventured to the 26 floor skybar, classy ladies in search of Una Passaporto Enkglish were on the prowl, most of them however, chose to keep their distance - the first casualties....  It was here the delight of the Baltic "Balsam" was introduced; a delicate blend of vodka and extract of cancerous lung. (I have since found out 3 shots or more in a row are likely to induce cardiac arrest). Unfortunate spillage onto Nel's shirt melted the transfer that a 300deg C iron couldn't damage...  It was after this the Angel lead us to El Jockey Club and departed off to heaven leaving the sinners to descend down the steps to a less than pure establishment.  From here on it does get hazy,  I danced round the pole with Plow and/or 40 yr old German biffer and spent a lat or 2.  Nel took some cheeky shots.  Bruce + AMEX disappeared behind the curtain for what seemed an age.  I then found myself trying to get into club essential, apparently my shoes were inappropriate but my leathered expression of feigning and mischief appeared to be fine.  So Mark's size 12 shoes came to the rescue as he made a sacrifice to make most chiropractors faint, hobbling back into the club in size 8 shoes.  Half an hour later man with clown flapping feet met with man in excruciating pain and there was much dancing and lovely ladies but I never managed to combine the 2.  Departure due to extreme exhaustion was inevitable and bumped into Lex wandering the streets stumbling from Casino to bar.  Riga Old Town Backpackers Bar was propped up by Faither, still going strong, celebrating his birthday in the early hours.  We never did find out the age, but numbers offered ranged from somewhere between 25 and 80.  At some point Div was kidnapped by students for the first time.......

Saturday

When in Riga it is always good to take in a museum, perhaps a walking tour of the ancient city or why not go to the Dickens pub, have a pint of speckled hen, fried brekky and then play killer darts for 4 hours which is what I'm afraid myself, faither, spazz, div and Marcio managed to do, such cultured individuals .  Bruce, Humey, Mark and Lex became real men and fired Boris´ AK-47s out of windows (Div would have joined them if he could have had and RPG and a cow).  Real cultured individuals Daff, Gypsy, Nel, Plow and Damo actually took in the city and managed to purchase a most beautiful dressing gown.  Meanwhile Bruce2 slept....

Stag was awarded with the gown of honour and immediately sent away to remove his trousers and we continued....

In part of the old town of Riga there is a beautiful medieval square, where romantic couples gaze longingly into each others eyes and pledge their undying bond to each other.  This picture was soon shattered by the arrival of the Cutherbertson-15, Russian Mafioso kiddies beggars / toilet attendants were in force with their "Give me money - F*ck off" lines which didn't seem to be proving that successful.  After being wrongly accused of photographing the barmaids arse, I was cruelly picked on with the Beefeater and Balsam and joined Bruce at the Tree of Chunder, where I kept it down but Bruce wretched for Scotland, Australia and Latvia.  After enjoying a private dance with Bruce we went for the real thing (fill in your own memory here) but mine was awesome..... It was after this bar we somehow lost Mark into the voids of the black Baltic night but most people were back in the black cat pool bar, Gypsy and Lex? beat the locals back to back but every time they won the Latvians invented another rule why they had lost.  I played table footy with Bruce2 who endured the Paulo "table rage" at close quarters (sorry).

Then off to Nightclub Foxy / Roxy / Poxy, and was brought to the chunder point for the second time that evening, not through alcohol mind but Bruce's horrific dance, Faither's face said it all.  However, for some reason the establishment weren't prepared to pay for Bruce's pole routine and had the cheek to charge an extra 13 lats, despite us putting the best part of a third world countries debt behind the bar, a fracas kicked off and the man in the dressing gown was forced to pay for entertaining the ladies?!?

4 hours later I found myself in a pizza bar with Damo with a half metre feast and then shortly after found Div returning from his second student abduction.  Don't ask me what happened before then - I truly don't know......

Sunday

I was more than impressed by the ability of you guys to get up on Sunday 9 am.  And even more impressed that Div threw up over himself on the Ryanair - that'll teach em for not supplying sick bags.

I went back to bed till 1 and managed to sneak in a cheeky Baltic boat trip and a few games of pool with Bruce, and my old house mate (no I didn't manage to shag her) on the Sunday evening.  The Stag left on Monday morning, he almost looked healthy, despite mumbling something about excess baggage. Reports have filtered back that he is alive and drinking again in OZ....

Epilogue

I returned to Riga a week later, lived in a massage parlour, pulled a local and was proposed to.... Result.