Buckshots & Brews
Bucks mission brief
Get ready for the Bucks night that fires on all cylinders. Buckshots & Brews hands the lads real shotguns, real clays and real opportunities to embarrass the groom in glorious high definition. After medals are handed out, the boys march into beer towers, loaded share plates and a full bar crawl designed for maximum bragging rights. Clay dust, bragging and celebratory pours. This is your moment to fire up the lads and pour on the trouble. It is chaos that hits dead centre. Everytime!
Game Plan
$249.00 per person, based on 10 attendees.
Popular Customisation options for this package
Select one to start customising your package!
You're customising this package
Awesome - You are customising this package!
Add or remove things by ticking or unticking options in the list below.
Expecting less than 10 people? Let us know how many lads in the white box below.
All of your package customisations will show up right here!The instant the boys assemble, Buckshots & Brews fires the starting shot on a day that transforms perfectly normal men into overconfident marksmen and loudmouth heroes. This is the Gold Coast Bucks mission, built for blokes who want recoil to kick things off, cold pints to fuel the momentum and bragging rights that will haunt the group chat long after the sun goes down. We load the clays. You load the chaos.
Your first battleground is our clay shooting range, the spiritual home of fragile egos. The lads suit up with shotguns, eye protection and the kind of swagger only men with absolutely no training can possess. The groom announces he has “natural precision”. The boys roast him instantly. Someone else claims his hands are “rock steady”. We quietly disagree. We enjoy watching this unfold.
Warm-up starts with ten clays. Ten flying opportunities to prove talent or expose delusion. The first bang cracks across the field. A clay shatters in a glorious puff. Another zips away untouched, practically waving goodbye as it sails off unharmed. The groom’s shots are so close yet so tragically wide that the lads crown him “Most Consistent Miss”. We encourage this. It builds character. Then the main event hits. Twenty target competition. Twenty shots separating champions from excuses. Clays explode mid-air. Clays escape like they are union workers on break. One lad nails a beautiful streak of hits and immediately transforms into a swaggering outlaw. Someone else misses three in a row and blames “faulty ammo”. The banter gets ferocious, the yelling gets theatrical and the chaos becomes perfect.
When the battle smoke clears and the guns cool, we assemble the podium. Awards presented with full ceremony despite being officiated by blokes who should never handle responsibility. The winner beams. Second place mutters. Third place says he “did not warm up properly”. We have heard this speech every weekend since the dawn of Bucks parties.
With spirits wounded and adrenaline still pulsing, the lads march straight into stop two. Our sports bar and beer garden. Your two-hour reserved table is waiting like a throne for victorious idiots. No wandering. No table hunting. No shoving six blokes into one sad booth. You arrive; the space is already yours. Then the beer tower drops. A frosty pillar of victory. The lads cheer like a championship parade is happening. Someone proposes naming it after the winner. Someone else tries to cradle it like a newborn. The groom pretends he earned it. We let him. It is his day after all.
Fuelled and far too confident, the crew moves to stop three. Our bar and bistro. Reserved seating ready and waiting. Drinks on arrival. Share plates roll in like a tactical drop of crispy reinforcements. Calamari. Wings. Garlic bread. Wedges. Fries. The table becomes a battlefield of absolute hunger destruction. Silence falls as everyone inhales food like they just completed special forces training. The groom tries to rewrite history. The lads argue. Everything is functioning exactly as intended.
Once the plates are empty and the confidence is unreasonably high again, it is time for the victory march to the last stop. The Irish bar. Your reserved seating awaits, locked and ready like a VIP bunker. The staff expect you. The energy spikes. The groom receives his final honour. A full jug of cold beer lowering on the table like a royal offering. The lads erupt. He drinks like he intends to forget every shot he missed earlier. And we support him wholeheartedly.
Buckshots & Brews is not a quiet day out. It is a full-throttle showdown of blasts, beers and unapologetic bragging crafted especially for men who want to send the groom into married life with ringing ears and a very bruised reputation. Call us on 1300 339 734 or reach out via Our Contact Form to claim your spot. Because clays might fly… but the best stories only land with the squad bold enough to pull the trigger.