Is this what the UK’s stag night capital means by going upmarket? Newquay is desperate to shed its sleazy image but, as JAN MOIR found, the party’s far from over

Here comes Misty, who is for sure lost in a damp, rolling haze of alcohol. His eyes don’t very focus. His neon-ginger wig is askew. Does he know what he is doing here, sticking on to a half quart in the Focal Motel in downtown Newquay, with the ocean breeze whipping around his uncovered knees?
‘It’s my stag,’ he gasps, modifying his bra. He isn’t truly called Misty, that’s the name of the character from the Pokemon arrangement he is dressed as, finish with tiny denim shorts, red supports what’s more, a edit top.
His whole group, who are from Derby, are all togged up as Pokemon stars, counting Pikachu what’s more, the Gingerbread Man. Why? Why? ‘We like ’em,’ burps a bloke in an orange dinosaur zip-up. Over the street, somebody shouts: ‘Hey, p**ishead!’
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This is pointed at Clefairy, a pink Pokemon character with an grievous whorly bee sanctuary hairstyle. Not fair, really, yet Clefairy takes it in his stride, particularly at the point when another plate of brews arrives.
Up the road, in one of the town’s six late-night tattoo parlours, a bloke from Bristol is lying on his stomach, having the names of all ten individuals of his stag party inked on his burly buttocks. His wife-to-be is beyond any doubt going to be excited with that.
Just outside, a man strolls through the town focus in fishnets what’s more, a provocative nurture outfit, with a blow-up sex doll tied to his head. He has accessorised his furnish with fingerless silky gloves over his shaggy knuckles — a pleasant touch.
Elkin has come all the way from South Africa to celebrate his stag night in Newquay, for reasons he is presently as well smashed to explain. Particularly at the point when an elderly lady passing with her Sainsbury’s shopping packs yells ‘Go home!’ at him.
Earlier I had seen him in Senor Dick’s Mexican restaurant, where a little young lady had halted nibbling on her nachos what’s more, looked on in horror. ‘Mum! There is a enormous dolly on that man’s back.’ ‘Yes, dear,’ relieved her mother, diverting her with a few more guacamole.
It’s just another enormous night in Newquay, the well known surfing Cornish shoreline town that has — to its terrify — move toward becoming the stag what’s more, hen capital of the UK.
Each weekend, thousands of revelers plunge here to wear inept costumes, party in the six nightclubs, one lap-dancing club what’s more, handfuls of bars what’s more, bars that line the quaint, limit boulevards in the centre.
Last week, the town hit the features once more at the point when a stag party dressed as movement cones caused mayhem. The party, in their orange-and-white striped costumes, hopped on auto hats what’s more, brought activity to a end outside Berties dance club in East Street.
They’d indeed been tossed out of Wetherspoons — oh, the ignominy. A few found their shenanigans entertaining — yet how interesting can it be in the event that you as a matter of fact live there?
‘I am completely sustained up of it,’ said Mary Bolton, 63, who has lived just outside the town all her life. ‘Why do we have to put up with these drunks? Why can’t we be more like St Ives, with its pleasant shops what’s more, respectable tourists?’
Newquay town councilor Steve Slade has a more sober minded attitude, as well he might. It’s no mystery that the revelers spend a fortune each week in his town, regularly with lines shaping at the six focal cashpoints.
‘It is about striking a balance, making beyond any doubt one perspective of the tourism industry does not influence the other, which is families,’ he said, in spite of the fact that he did remorsefully say the later expansion of ‘giant, disgusting inflatables’. Still, the town has battled back a little since its wild west notoriety come to a nadir in 2009, at the point when two celebrating adolescents were slaughtered in discrete incidents, falling to their demise from the bluffs that encompass the town.
After inhabitants walked in dissent about the week by week mayhem, police what’s more, nearby organizations got together to frame the Newquay Safe campaign. Overseer Dave Meredith feels that Newquay has ‘come a long way’ in five years, with wrongdoing down by around a third.
The battle presented clampdowns on permitting extensions, a finish boycott on drinking in the road what’s more, introduced CCTV cameras in the town centre.
Two lap-dancing clubs were shut down, scanners were presented to check for fashioned IDs, what’s more, most clubs presently serve all their drink in plastic mugs to maintain a strategic distance from what the Overseer calls ‘glassing incidents’.
Some dance club indeed presented a ‘no mankini’ rule, forbidding the enigmatically disgusting beachwear advanced in the parody film, Borat.
The result of all this is that families are returning here to take advantage of the excellent shorelines what’s more, shocking location.
So it’s not the UK’s reply to Magaluf, scene of horrifying conduct by English youths this week — yet it is not precisely Midsomer either.
The fundamental bars what’s more, bars utilize security watches indeed at lunchtimes — yet maybe it makes a difference that the revelers appear to be a somewhat more seasoned swarm — the era who subsidize youngster support, Or maybe than the era who get it.
At top ends of the week in the summer, the 22,000-strong populace of Newquay can be swelled to 100,000 by parties of hard-drinking men what’s more, women, numerous of whom are decided to debase in the formal last throw some time recently settling down to hitched life.
From mid-morning until the clubs close at 4am, something is continuously going on. Some time recently twelve outside a lodging on The Crescent, a man dressed as one of the Fat Slags from the sarcastic comic Viz — finish with startlingly nippled froth bosoms — is drinking from a tin of ale what’s more, smoking. 
At lunch in the ‘family friendly’ Stronghold pub, a cider-fuelled stag gathering wail with brutal giggling as they compel the groom-to-be to eat a crude onion like an apple, what’s more, at that point a few entirety green chillies afterwards. It’s not long some time recently he is green, too. By day, the blockheads just sit in the bars what’s more, drink, while the more sorted out gatherings go surfing. As night falls, the young men what’s more, young ladies come out to play.
I experience a few hen groups, counting Katie Jackson, 27, who is from Saltash what’s more, has a work in nearby government. She is getting hitched in September, what’s more, spent all of today having spa treatments.
She what’s more, her hens are remaining at the nearby Travelodge. ‘So far, Newquay has been brilliant,’ she says. What’s not to like!
There are a maybe a couple irregular hens, yet for the most part it is all lads, lads, lads. The dominant part appear to drive here what’s more, move into convenience that ranges from the semi-plush to the basic, to the essentially grim.
The Pokemons are on a Surf & Remain bundle in a ten-bed dormitory in a hostel. ‘It’s a s***hole,’ says Pikachu. For two nights’ bed what’s more, ‘simple’ breakfast, in addition two surf lessons apiece, they paid £99 each.
Here comes Robert Moss, 28, from Cheshire, walking down past The Oggy Oggy Pale Shop, dressed as Elsa from the hit little girls’ film Frozen.
‘I wicked am not,’ he says, offended. I look again. He is wearing a blonde wig what’s more, blue ballgown, his hirsute cleavage pushing forward from a low-cut bodice. Who are you then?
‘I’m Little Bo Peep. What’s more, these are my sheep.’ He shows his eight friends, all dressed as sheep with little sheepy caps what’s more, the words Wild & Provocative printed on the front of their wooly jumpers.
Why the Bo Peep theme? ‘Because he’s lost his way. He’s getting married,’ says a lamb. It all makes idealize sense to them.
Across town as the Newquay sun goes down, the men move around in packs, numerous with their names embellished on the back of their stag group shirts. Tiny Taff. Smiffmeister. Eggy. Huge Dave. Moron Head. Shaggy. Murf the Stag. Strew. Lino. There are T-shirts of intent: Diversion Over; On the off chance that Found, If you don’t mind Return To Closest Pub; what’s more, Infant I’m Yours.
Later there will be battling in the streets, meals being kept on the pavement, a dead seagull that has been kicked in the head what’s more, one reveler conceded to healing facility after a genuine assault in Mariners nightclub. (He is still in clinic what’s more, police request are ongoing.)
But for the moment, it’s all still fun . . . isn’t it? The shorelines are glorious, indeed in the event that a few of the town structures are run down what’s more, the smell of chips hangs overwhelming in the air.
Here, you can still purchase sticks of shoreline rock, squares of fudge what’s more, cream teas to go with your tattoos.
The mixed drinks are shabby (two pitchers for £12), a goliath 250ml glass of red wine is £4.30, what’s more, the Cornish brew streams all night.
Newquay’s chairman David Sleeman says the town is ‘unrecognisable’ from five a long time ago, what’s more, reviews a time at the point when you couldn’t walk the avenues without knocking into a stag in a mankini.
So there’s no question mankini-free Newquay is advancing — in a great way. Be that as it may as the new summer season approaches, what next? Will the nearby dream of being the next chi-chi St Ives ever come true?
Perhaps there are as well numerous vested interests in keeping Newquay precisely the way it is for any genuine change to happen. What’s more, those who come here do like to clear out their mark.
On my way back to my hotel, I see a figure in denim shorts twisted twofold over a hedge. Misty, goodness dear Misty, is that you?

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