The scene: I'm in the middle section on my own
Describe your fellow traveller: A gaggle (staggle?) of pre-wedding dudes from (I am guessing) well-to-do families.
The review: I anticipated a flight of drunken antics, some vomiting, lewdness, perhaps even an unwanted offer of coitus-in-the-airus. Sadly, what I got was one of the most eye-wateringly dull one-hour-and-fifty-minuteses of my life. Once I heard they were on a stag party, I really hoped they'd be entertainingly crude, but I was instead subjected to conversational Nightnurse along the lines of:
STAG A: "Looking forward to it?"
HUSBAND TO BE: "Yeah. We've come in under £6k so that's more than I hoped."
STAG B: "Not bad, not bad. Tim hit £10k but that was mainly because of the catering."
STAG A: "Tony's was £20k but then you'd expect that from him and he did it at
HTB: "A lot of ours was the dress. They are really expensive. The dress itself was around a grand but the fittings and appointments cost nearly that again"
STAG A: "Oh right. Going to get some Royal Mail shares?"
HTB: "Yeah probably."
STAG B: "Where's Steve?"
STAG B: "I'm going to read my book for a bit."
Verdict: Lads, it was nice to meet you and I enjoyed your excellent personal hygiene but I really hope that on at least one of the mornings, you managed to wake up by the Spree with a condom full of coke stuffed up your Kürfurstendamm. Stag parties aren't meant to be enjoyment on a par with seeing your financial advisor.