Just as in the cartoon series Futurama, where an entire city lies beneath 31st century ‘New New York’, a labyrinth of bars, clubs, museums and mines also lays hidden underneath the cobbled streets of Krakow. This ‘subterranean city’ demands to be explored regardless of what time of year it is, however it is during the cold and dark winter months that the city’s underground is of most use to those of you heading on a Krakow stag do. Rather than chilling to the bone and freezing your swingers off hopping between watering holes and tourist attractions above ground, it is reassuring to know that you can keep warm and dry whilst enjoying all manner of good stuff beneath the surface.

Perhaps you’ve picked up a chill doing some white water rafting out at the Polish Olympic Training Centre. No bother, for CK Browar is on hand to help out. An underground beer garden famous for three-litre beer towers, it brews its own unfiltered, unpasteurised amber nectar. The CK Ginger comes especially recommended, giving off a natural ginger aroma, obviously! The beer here is all brewed right in front of the punters, so you’re never in doubt that what you are guzzling is as fresh as they come.

For the underground clubbing stag do Krakow throws up some pleasant surprises. Prozak, despite its name, is a pretty cheery place, with walls covering in fairy lights, avant-garde artwork and a programme of live music being pumped through the vaults on a nightly basis.

But why the obsession with the underground? Well, residents will tell you that its because they absolutely love their beer, and that beer is best produced in a cold, dark place. Fair enough we say! It also turns out that the market square is five metres higher than it was 1000 years ago, roads in the city being built on top of one another. Krakow, the Subterranean City, one of those stag do ideas you won’t find on Google Maps!

Foundations shook and gob-fulls of tea were spat out here at The Stag Company when we picked up our daily newspapers to find that 25 pubs were closing each and every week. We love our local boozers down here in Brighton and as a country we’re inextricably linked to our traditional English pubs, particularly on stag nights. Normally with things like this we’d be happy to write it off as progression, as survival of the fittest, but we’ll not see our publicans turfed out of their establishments like so much rubbish. It’s time to unite, Britain, to unite behind our pubs in their time of need and pick out a barstool at your nearest pub and order a pint of best.

Save Britain's Pubs Before It's Too Late

The website Closed Pubs has listed more than 18,000 pubs that have closed in recent times, many of which are being turned into residential buildings – something, I think we can agree, we have more than enough of already.

The recession might be claiming our jobs, our cars and our homes, but there needs to be a line drawn somewhere and I implore you, friends, let us draw it here at the pub, that Great British institution. We know that when it comes to brainstorming stag do destinations, the pub is the first port of call, but that’s not it – there’s also pub lunches, Super Sunday pints infront of the football, bar snacks, pub quizzes and, of course, that vital breathing space from the missus after a heated row about curtains, the baby or that new secretary from the office. This must be protected at all costs against these opportunistic property developers.

So, how do we do it? Not the most painful of procedures I can happily report – it’s as simple as paying a visit to your local, ordering a pint and giving your landlord a big, manly bear-hug*.

Let’s save our pubs, Britain, they need us now more than ever.

And it’s all over. Tom Coulson, stag weekend organisers, The Stag Company’s party-planning extraordinaire managed an impressive 5 feet of sandwich in today’s bid to enter the record books as part of our Comic Relief fundraising. As there is no registered Subway eating world record, we’ll claim it now, thank you very much.

The donations have been rolling in and thanks to the live broadcast of this feat, we’ve managed to raise £200 for Comic Relief. The sandwich was the equivalent of 10 foot long sandwiches and had Tom sweating as he negotiated what we dubbed “the Manwich”.

Subway of Shoreham-by-Sea kindly donated the sandwich, the manager even getting up at 5am to start work on his masterpiece which contained no less than a kilo of chicken. For Subway enthusiasts, Tom’s sandwich of choice was on Italian herb & cheese bread, roast chicken filling with “standard salad” (lettuce, tomato, cucumber, green pepper, red onion and a little light mayonnaise).

The initial idea was concieved when Tom boasted that he could easily eat 5 Subway foot-long sandwiches, so we got in touch with Subway and they scoffed,

“No human could possibly eat that much sandwich in one sitting. You’ll be clearing up vomit all day.”

He later changed his mind and decided that it was too easy and so the challenge was set to a Giant Sub, normally reserved for corporate functions to share between tens of people. Still, Tom was bullish,

“I’ve been kicked out of the odd Chinese all-you-can-eat buffet in my time, so I’m not nervous. You’ll all be laughing when I’m hungry an hour later.” He said.

Rob Hill, Managing Director of the Stag Company was moved by Tom’s charitable spirit,

“This is Tom’s LiveAid and we’re all behind him… he’s made some big claims and he’s got to back them up come Friday.”

The challenge was broadcast on the internet and was commentated on via The Stag Company Twitter page, drawing hundreds of viewers and many donations. Tom finally, inevitably fell at the half-way point – managing 5 feet of the Manwich – the size of his initial pledge.

Tom said at the completion of the challenge,

“I am still hungry, it’s just eating the same thing over and over again that’s getting me.”

Indeed, Tom’s reasoning is sound – it’s scientifically proven that eating the same thing for a long period of time is much more difficult than eating a variety of flavours, due to humans being naturally programmed to get variety into their diet.

With that, we’ll let you off Tom. Thanks to everyone who viewed, commented and most importantly, donated to this worthy cause. You can still donate here at our just giving page.

As previously reported, The Stag Company’s Tom Coulson will be attempting to eat what is the equivalent of 10 feet in Subway sandwiches at our offices on Queens Road, Brighton today. The attempt will be broadcast online on The Stag Company website from 12pm today and is in aid of Comic Relief.

We’ve scoured the archives and we can find no existing world record in place for eating Subway sandwiches, so we reckon Tom is heading for the record books, if he can pull it off.

The Stag Company team has been digging deep with donations for Tom’s food binge at our Just Giving page set-up for this event.

Here’s Tom making his (original) pledge, before we upped the ante to 10 feet.

Tom’s Sandwich of choice is: 3ft Giant Sub – Italian Herb & Cheese Bread, Roast Chicken filling with “standard salad” (Lettuce, Tomato, Cucumber, Green Pepper, Red Onion and a little Light Mayonnaise).

Nutritional information: 6,400 calories, 50g of fat, 25mg cholesterol.

Settle down, put that down, children shush! It’s time for a little history lesson.

The stag night is thought by historians to have originated from the Spartans in around 5BC, who would hold a dinner in honour of the groom-to-be. They would reminisce over the stag’s past, trading stories on his exploits; an epitaph for his prenuptial life. Traditionally, the stag night was held to raise money for the married couple – coincidentally, so that the groom would have means to drink with his friends after his wife takes charge of the finances. What a splendid idea.

The stag night definitely existed in the times of King Henry VIII, and if anyone could compete with The Stag Company for experience in these matters, it’s old Henry. Not one to need a second invitation to a banquet or some kind of celebration, Henry held a stag party for each of his eight wives, though it’s unclear whether he used the same best man – one imagines his speech would have worn thin on eighth hearing.

The stag has seen a shift in recent times to be about expanding horizons, visiting new lands to drink, unclothe women and… drink. The term stag is said to relate to a pre-Christian horned figure of worship – a symbol of masculinity and of independence. Companies like us at The Stag Company are now a requirement to take the stress out of arranging the ideal stag weekend packages to mark that transition from bachelor to married bliss.

The Stag Night has recently become the Stag Weekend as groups of men look to make a mini-holiday out of the event, though the function of these trips haven’t changed so much, they still function as a figurative goodbye to singledom and a reinvention of the groom-to-be as half of a whole.

If you hadn’t guessed it by now, I’m a god among men when it comes to stag weekends. I’m not a wedding crasher or a wedding planner but it is from years of experience that I have become who I am today and it is my pleasure to pass on the knowledge.

Let me take you inside the workings of a bestman’s mind, from the moment his best mate asks that fateful question to the stunned silence as you unwittingly say a little too much during the speech.

From this point on lets refer to the bestman as a creature…it just makes things much simpler.

No matter what type of person you are or however strong your character is, once you’ve been branded ‘the bestman’ you might as well order up a cocktail of emotions and sit yourself down to drink the lot – no matter how long it takes.

The first emotion the bestman experiences is a sense of pride, honour and happiness at being chosen, which is followed by many celebratory pints. However, in the cold light of day it dawns on the bestman that there is a job to be done and there is a to-do list longer than an orangutan’s arm.

What follows is the hilarity of planning the stag weekend and the best ways to stitch up the stag. This is quickly followed by frustration and annoyance at all those slack mates who won’t commit to digging in their wallet and paying for the stag do. Then there’s the bonding with the stag whilst enjoying all those naughty pleasures of stag night.

From there the rollercoaster moves onto panic at the prospect of standing in front of hundreds mumbling some very unfunny ‘personal’ jokes and generally making a tit out of oneself.

After panic there is relief. Then excitement as the bestman gets ruined whilst sleazing over the groom’s saucy sister. And that ends this stag do journey into the crazy mind the bestman. I hope it has been educational.

There are some stag nights that are remembered long after those who actually created the tale are alive; these are the historic yarns fondly passed down from father to son.

Taking myself as an example, there are many stag nights that I’d love to remember but that bloody beer monkey paid me a visit, equipped with an eraser belt and went hell-for-leather wiping away those lovely, character building memories. Stag nights are just the tip of the iceberg – I don’t remember anything after about 10 pints.

I digress – back to the purpose of my stag do ramblings. I was thinking, one seven seconds,  about a memorable experience in a certain Brighton nightclub and thought I’d share with you one evening I actually do remember.

Nightclubs are the after hour mecca for pissed up stag parties wanting to chase the beer buzz. You’ve got a belly full of beer, a mind full of strippers and you’re King of the Disco World – nothing will prevent you cutting shapes on that dance floor. And this is where my stag do tale begins.

Picture this, a heaving club with the funkiest tracks thumping against my inner lobes. There were a lot of sweaty people moving like a well oiled John Travolta engine and in the midst of this, is yours truly and my mate. I have no idea where the rest of the stag party had gone but it didn’t really matter.

We had caught the stag do wave and were tweaking every move we could possible make. We had the circle of ladies, we had a seemingly endless supply of beer, we had the tunes and then just when it couldn’t get any better – you’re not going to believe me – our very own mini member of Take That, Mr Mark Owen, pops up next to us wearing a funny little trilby. Bear in mind this is when they had all disbanded and his solo career was non existent – a mere civilian.

Seeing this as an opportunity not to be missed, my mate pounced on the poor Owen and, towering above this little fellow began shouting about how worried he was for Gary Barlow. ‘The Barlow’ as he was referred to, had ‘apparently’ been constantly turning up at my mates flat at all hours, generally with booze in hand; wanting to get pissed, watch TV, cook, write songs…basically hang out.

At this point the Owen is looking really confused as am I, but the difference is I’m loving the awkwardness. My mate continues by saying that at first it was rather a novelty but ‘The Barlow’ had become desperate and wouldn’t take piss off for an answer.

By this point the Owen is cornered like a rabbit caught in lyrical headlights, twitching to escape the ramblings of this clearly insane tall man. I’m pissing myself laughing which makes the Owen more on edge and finally like ‘the one that got away’ he jumps the net and dives back into the John Travolta engine.

We never saw him again but it was bizarre and very funny indeed.

Upon reading this stag night tale above, it accounts for probably two minutes of the entire evening – but for the life of me I can’t remember the rest, which isn’t a surprise.

God bless Mark Owen.

It has been scientifically proven that men think about sex every seven seconds but let me tell you a little secret – I think about stag weekends, stag parties, stag nights, stag dos, in fact anything to do with all the above every seven seconds. I consider myself something of a miracle and so do many others.

Anyway, it was during one of these seven second thought processes that I asked myself – what do those crazy Eastern Europeans do before they get married; do they paint pig shit on each other; do they watch TV for three days straight; do they eat only pine nuts to cleanse their souls?

This got me thinking (another seven seconds later) that I need to investigate and whatever I discover I need to share with you. You may ask why only Eastern Europe when we have the world at our fingertips – my answer is that the stag company is an Eastern European aficionado.

Well, I’ve chosen my stag party top five which include symbolic gift giving, crying, singing, and lots of drinking. Boy, you’re in for a treat.

1. Armenian Bethrolal

Get this, in medieval Armenia, a man would send his chosen bride some new clothes (cheaper than a ring); she would in turn send him food, such as sugar, butter, and milk (sounds like a feeder).

2. Getting Engaged

Hungarian peasants hosted a formal stag party during which the groom is presented by his future wife with a special black apron and embroidered shirt to signify betrothal. On a prearranged night, the groom would wear these garments on a walk – rather like Lilly Savage on a stag night out.

3. Brandy Invitations

A few days before a Serbian wedding, the groom’s dad fills a flask with his best brandy, decorates it with flowers, slings a sack over his shoulder and sets out to invite all the guests. Each guest gets a swig, tops it up with their own brandy and pins a handkerchief or a pair of socks to the dad’s sack before he invites the next guest. No dad has made it to the church – piss heads.

4. Russian Tears

Once the question is popped Russian birds are excused from most of their chores and put on special clothing to signify mourning. Friends hold a sort of good-bye hen party and sing sorrowful songs at the passing of the bride’s innocence. Why bother?

5. Transylvanian Dirges

Transylvanians think marriage is a form of metaphorical death, even playing funeral dirges during the processional. The groom’s friends sing horrific songs about the dead departing this world. What a happy bunch.

All this makes me glad to be British I can tell ya.

Women always get nervous before their men’s stag party and some even try to put a stop to it. Fortunately, the nature of the stag party is that it’s not organised by the pussy whipped groom, but the fierce friend the Best Man. Sometimes however, those pesky broads get in the way of all the fun and will stop at nothing to make their point.

Digging in the Stag archives we came across this story from Pittsburg,  June 17th 1906, yes people actually existed and tried to have fun even back then. A woman was so pissed off that her husband wanted to have a Stag Party (technically it was his birthday but they called it a Stag Party back then), that she warned him repeatedly that should he go ahead with the party she would “put a stop to it”. Thinking it was no more than foolish female rot and probably her time of the month, the staunch reveller went ahead in getting 100 of his best friends round for fun. He had no doubt forgotten all about his wife’s threats and indeed all were “making merry” at about 8 o’clock when the wife walked into the middle of the room and with the steely determination of a mentalist pulled a pistol from the “folds of her skirt, and fired twice.”

Desperate to be the centre of attention the crazy dame shot herself twice in the breast and as she was falling, fired again and the bullet hit her husband. For some reason the New York Times seems to think this shot was accidental…we’re a little more sceptical.

Apparently the “attempt at suicide broke up the stag party at once”. I guess stag parties back then just didn’t have the staying power that we possess today. So when your yapping fiancée is warning you not to do this that and the other on your Stag do, you might be as well to keep her sweet, disguise the fact you’re ignoring her, and keep the destination of the stag party top secret…and don’t marry a nutcase.

What better to way to kick off the Stag Company blog with a trip back through time to find out just where the stag weekend came from? And no, it wasn’t Blackpool in the 1970′s…

The history of bachelor party is thought to have originated in the 5th century BC with a bachelor dinner that was traditional in ancient Sparta. Soldiers would toast each other on the eve of a friend’s wedding at a civilised dinner, before consuming gallons of the finest vino and being visited by a Greek Goddess who gave them a glimpse of her ‘heavenly delights’.

Celtic and early English mythology often reffered to Cernunnos, the Horned God, who was worshipped as a large hairy god who sported antlers and ran around with the Einheriar, or ‘wild hunt’. Cernunnos still runs around with the wild hunt and is worshipped as much as he was those many years ago, but lately Cernunnos has lost his antlers, has got much more hairy and is now known as ‘Wayne Rooney’.

In case your history of porno flicks only goes back as far as ‘Debbie Does Dallas’, in the 1930s ‘stag movies’ were short, pornographic films shown at ‘stag parties‘ for men about to be married (‘stag’ had been used to mean ‘for men only’ since 1934). Other uses of stag are going ‘stag’ to a dance (going on your own) and standing in the ‘stag line’ – a line of men waiting for a dance with an unattached woman. In modern times, these are known as ‘losers’ and ‘perverts’ respectively.

Historically, the reference to stag and bucks has strong male connotations. The leader of the pack or herd, virile, male vigour and ardour, males in their prime identified with strength and vitality.
Although after consuming a ‘Flaming Lamborgini’ and a few ‘Jagermeister Bombs’, we doubt that even the most hard drinking meathead will be full of virility, vigour or ardour and will be more than susceptible to having his head shaved, stripped of his clothes and then chained to the nearest lamppost.

Now you know the history, all you need to do is to decide the future of your stag weekend. Just make sure that you use The Stag Company to make sure that your stag weekend is truly legendary and goes down in the history books.