Hey dropkicks let’s have a bit more social animal… and a little less animal?

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What was with all the really nasty drunken night-time violence in downtown Queens­town last weekend? 

Three instances in three days involving complete tuggers allegedly kicking people when they’re on the ground. 

Whatever happened to just a fair fight – y’know, the old ‘Hey pal … you, me, outside, now’. Or no fights at all. Why do people have to kick others in the temple, risking serious damage or even life itself? 

It’s as dumb as it gets. Get a grip – you’re not a hero if you put the slipper in when someone’s lying prone, you’re a loser. 

I came back to this shocking news after a brilliant boys’ trip away in Dunedin which featured two nights and one day of sustained boozing but not a hint of violence. 

Although, to be fair, we did almost knock the stag unconscious but I’ll get to that. 

The modern-day stag do can be quite taxing. 

It often involves several days of dusk till dawn hi-jinks, sport, gambling and minimal sleep all fuelled by an impressive power-boozing regimen and questionable diet. 

In short, they’re completely awesome. 

It was no different last weekend. I joined a top group of Queens­towners and Dunedinites for the ‘stag’ bash of local character Chris ‘Squid’ Bradley. 

Without going into too much detail (what happens on the stag do, stays on the stag do), it had all the ingredients of a good time – namely, family and friends with ingrained competitive streaks … and alcohol. No violence. 

As is customary, Squid was supposed to be taking the orders – but such is the brilliant force of his personality that he spent half the weekend dishing them out and acting like a boss. 

After pairing up with his father to win the Saturday morning golf tournament, he was almost unstoppable. This generally made for a pretty entertaining couple of days but his continually good-natured disobedience did result in him copping a penalty. 

This came during the Saturday afternoon tennis challenge and resulted in him being tied to a fence and used as target practice for everybody’s serve. 

He was untied when it was feared he may have been knocked unconscious by a flush ball to the head, in the only real incident that threatened to put the mockers on the weekend. 

To everyone’s relief he survived and proceeded to wipe most of us from the court during one-off point  challenges. He may or may not have been made to drink a shot every time he lost a point, which wasn’t often. 

From there we later ended up taking over part of the Octagon in downtown Dunedin where we whiled away a decent part of the night talking complete bollocks and generally having a great time. 

All good fun with no aggro, staunch rubbish, group attacks or savage blows to the head (well, except for one well-directed tennis ball). 

Everyone has a good time, no one gets hurt. Nothing too difficult about that. 

So guys, if you’re going to go out boozing, how about a little bit more of the social animal and a little less of the animal. 

What do you reckon?