There was a stag party

There was a stag party in the pub last night, and inevitably perhaps, there was a stripper. She was easy to spot as soon as she came in – looking cold, looking for the party, and wrapped in a full length black leather coat. She was escorted to the party, and then left to carry out her performance, which involved wearing nothing other than a thong, and making a fool of the poor guy getting married, whilst his mates and numerous assorted sundry spectators looked on. All this to the bemusement of people (including myself) sitting at neighbouring tables.
I’ve always wondered – what the hell drives someone to be a stripper? I sincerely hope the money is good (she can’t have been in the pub for more than 15 minutes) – perhaps she can earn more for a fifteen minute performance than she could for a whole day of office temping.
Perhaps the most disturbing part was the guy who was escorting her. For all the world, he could have been her father. Whether he was or not, he had a very seedy air to him. But then I guess stripping is a seedy occupation.
And I have warned my mates that if ever I get married, if anyone arranges a stripper for my stag night, I’ll not be best pleased. Which was probably the wrong thing to tell them.