Clays & Cold Ones
Bucks mission brief
If your crew loves the sound of clays exploding and pints pouring, Clays & Cold Ones hits the target every time. Warm up shots turn into a full blown twenty target showdown where egos inflate, friendships wobble and someone inevitably swears the gun was faulty. Then the boys advance to beer towers, stacked share plates and a victory lap through the pubs. For a Bucks group of 7 craving carnage, competition and celebratory hydration, this one loads the chamber and lets the lads fire away.
Game Plan
$329.00 per person, based on 7 attendees.
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Clays & Cold Ones hits differently. The moment the lads gather, the vibe shifts from casual catch-up to full-scale artillery day out, the kind of Bucks session where competition gets feral, egos swell dangerously and the only thing colder than the beers is the silence after someone completely whiffs a shot. This is the Gold Coast send-off crafted for blokes who love recoil, rivalry and refreshment in rapid succession. We bring the clays. You bring the chaos!
Your first stop is our clay shooting range, a sacred arena where confidence is high, accuracy is debatable and the groom instantly becomes the man everyone intends to outshine. The lads gear up with shotguns, eye protection and the sort of swagger usually reserved for movie heroes who definitely do not do their own stunts. The groom announces he has “hidden talent”. The boys disagree immediately. Someone else claims he “was born steady-handed”.
The warm-up begins. Ten targets. Ten chances to proudly shatter clays or spectacularly miss and invent excuses no one believes. The first boom echoes across the field. A clay explodes mid-air. Another flies off untouched like it has diplomatic immunity. The groom gets so close to hitting one that the lads gift him sarcastic applause. We support this behaviour. It toughens the mind.
Then comes the real match. Twenty-target showdown. The shots fire fast. Targets burst apart in glorious dust clouds. Other clays escape untouched, mocking the shooter on their way down. Someone nails two in a row and starts strutting like a man auditioning for an action film. The banter gets ruthless. The lads get louder. The competitive spirit gets stupid. Perfect!
When the final clay falls and the guns cool, we unveil the podium. First. Second. Third place awards, presented with the dramatic gravitas of a world finals ceremony hosted by blokes who probably should not be trusted with medals. The winner gloats shamelessly. Second place sulks despite insisting he “did not care anyway”. Third insists he was “pacing himself”. Trust us, we have heard this speech before.
With pride bruised and ears buzzing, the lads head to stop two, ready for the first batch of cold ones. Our sports bar and beer garden has your two-hour reserved table locked in before you even arrive. No wandering around like stray dogs sniffing for chairs. You walk in, you sit down like you own the place. The beer tower lands like a frosty monument to poor aim and great enthusiasm. The groom tries to pose next to it like he won something important.
With beers flowing and confidence returning, the lads march to the next stop, our bar and bistro. Reserved table ready. Drinks landing on arrival. No chaos. No crowd wrestling. No splitting up the group because only two seats are free at the bar. The share plates arrive like tactical reinforcements, lining the table with calamari, wings, garlic bread, wedges and fries. The kind of spread that encourages inhaling rather than eating. The groom forgets his earlier misses. The lads accuse each other of cheating again. Everything is functioning as intended.
When the plates are cleaned and the energy is back at maximum stupidity, there is one final destination. The victory zone. Your reserved seating is waiting like someone pressed a VIP button just for your crew in our iconic Irish bar. And then the groom receives his final honour. A full jug of beer delivered like he just toppled an empire. Stories start flying instantly. Apparently every lad hit more clays than recorded. Apparently someone made a shot blindfolded. Apparently the groom “nearly broke a world record”. None of it happened, but the belief is strong. But one thing is for sure: you have successfully delivered an epic Bucks party. Salute!
Clays & Cold Ones is not a casual outing. It is a blast-fuelled showdown followed by cold pints, fierce bragging and a finale that leaves the groom’s reputation permanently dented. When a bloke is about to retire from single life, he deserves one last day of recoil and refreshment. Call us on 1300 339 734 or reach out via Our Contact Form to lock in your spot. Because clays may shatter… but the bragging? That survives forever.