Thursday, 5 May 2011

The hen don't

Queen of tack... Katie price at her hen do
Over the past week I've come to a conclusion. There's only one thing worse than a bridezilla and that's an over-zealous hen party organiser.

As the dreaded wedding season creeps ever-closer I've found myself physically unable to escape from the evil clutches of the Hen Do Nazis. Every one of my inboxes has been spammed with countless messages demanding payment for overpriced meals, inflatable willy hats, glow-in-the-dark penis stickers and humiliating outfits I've been forced into wearing but am somehow expected to part with my hard-earned cash to buy. And that's before I've shelled out for the bride's share of the meal, accommodation, outfit and plethora of penis accessories.

If Facebook for mobile isn't constantly pinging, my hotmail account is beeping at me. When I ignore them, my texts start bleeping and, shock, horror, if I don't reply instantly I'm hit by hostile messages across every possible medium. As time passes, the endless demands on my time and money have spiralled out of control until I'm left broke, pissed off and feeling as deflated as the inflatable willy three months after the event.

The dreaded inflatable willy
Now don't get me wrong. There's nothing I love more than a good hen do and I want to see my friends out of singledom with style. However, there's a hen do etiquette and it certainly doesn't include Facebook stalking, behaving like a certain Fascist dictator or expecting groups of self-respecting women to wear penises on their heads in a public place.

It's like being targeted by the school bully all over again, although this time they're not stealing my 80p dinner money, but asking me to hand over £500 for the designer penis-shaped yacht trip. I still feel like I've been robbed.

This kind of 'forced fun' feels more like attending an army boot camp. Operated with military precision and to a non-negotiable timetable, the hens are left terrified of stepping out of line without fear of reprisal for even the smallest of crimes. And if a brave chick dares to stand up to the authorities, her pleas are ignored - or she's cruelly exposed to the remainder of the party as a 'tight arse.' 

The Hen Do Nazi is a particular breed of woman. No-nonsense, strict and efficient, her sole mission is to ensure maximum fun for her best friend/sister/cousin - at the expense of all the other poor hens forced along for the ride. Often wealthy, she is unable to empathise with other hens' desperate pleas to keep the costs down. And she has a unique talent of making attendees feel guilty for complaining about any aspect of her organisational skills. She's also an obsessive photo-taker - leading to hours of frenzied de-tagging on Facebook the day after the event. 

But despite psyching myself up for another summer spent embroiled in hated hen do politics, I've also made a promise to myself to grin, bear it and and have a good time.

After all, something's got to make up for all those credit card bills on the doormat...

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