Following the financially and emotionally crippling odyssey that is the bridal freakout, the bogan moves onto the most awaited part of its nuptials. While the bridesmaids in a bogan wedding often fall victim to the tyrannical tantrums and hysterical breakdowns of their new overlord, one (the loudest and most single) will take the heat due to one simple privilege it grants them. The opportunity to anoint themselves the architect of the most important night of the process in their eyes: “OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod”. That’s right, the hen’s night.
This is the bridesmaid’s chance to assert its newly held belief that its single life is far, far superior to being wed. Her time to shine, and her chance to prove it by organising a spastic orgy of ridiculous, ‘sexy’ games, resulting in the bride-to-be dirty dancing with random strangers at a random CBD pub before passing out in a pool of its own vomit in the cab on the way home…
But, to backtrack a bit, this tendency is not isolated to the bride’s friends. A long-held bogan male truism is that, upon becoming married, the sex dries up. Notwithstanding that it may be because they no longer deem it necessary to engage in foreplay beyond ‘You awake?’, this fear, rarely mentioned among actually married bogans, has become acknowledged fact. Hence, the bogan buck’s night became synonymous with strippers. The best man will apply all of his considerable imagination to the task of organising, which tends to result in an event remarkably similar to Troy’s event a fortnight ago – paintball, pub for tea, strippers.
The groom-to-be’s friends loudly rally around the groom-to-be, bringing to its attention the impermanence of its sexual freedom with chants of “Go on, it’s your last night as a free and single man, so don’t be a poof, and let Candi do whatever she wants to you”. Candi, spurred by his inert curiosity, will proceed to prepare him for married life by covering him in cream and trying to shove a dildo up his bum.
Not to be outdone, however, the female bogan, in the name of ‘feminism’, decided that anything the blokes can do, they can do bigger, dirtier, smellier and lamer. All while wearing a feather boa, a ridiculous sash and pink plastic tiara. And drinking Bacardi through a straw that is hilariously shaped like a – wait for it – penis! Bogan bridesmaids have thus identified a plethora of methods to humiliate and degrade this peculiar brand of poultry. By booking a two-hour session where the hen can “learn sexy new moves” by repeatedly falling off a pole, the hen’s night is a curious inversion of the buck’s night aesthetic – men ogling at women turning into women wanting to be ogled by men.
The key message of the evening is that it’s the last chance that the bogan will ever get to party. This is despite the fact that the bogan remains irresponsible and impulsive for most of its lifespan, and is quite likely to divorce and experience at least one additional buck’s/hen’s night in its name in the future.
With this ritual dutifully carried out, the bogans are now ready to marry.