Clays & Cheers
Bucks mission brief
Get ready, lads, for a buck’s day that’ll have your trigger finger itching and your beer hand twitching. We’re talking about blasting clays out of the sky with a 12-gauge shotgun, leaving nothing but dust behind, before heading to a proper Sydney pub for a frosty jug of liquid gold. After the thrill of the shoot, you’ll be treated to hearty grub at an Irish pub, think schnittys as big as your head and burgers that require a crocodile’s jaw. To top it off, we’ll hit a slick waterfront bar where another jug awaits, the perfect spot to kick back and plan the night ahead. It’s all about good times, great banter, and stories that’ll be whispered about for years to come.
Game Plan
$329.00 per person, based on 8 attendees.
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All of your package customisations will show up right here!Listen up, lads! We’re about to kick off a buck’s day that’ll make your trigger finger itch and your beer hand twitch. It’s time to show some clay who’s boss. This isn't just a day out, it's a high-octane rite of passage designed to separate the marksmen from the Muppets.
First up, we’re strapping you in with a 12-gauge that’ll put hair on your chest and a grin on your face. Feel that recoil? That’s the taste of freedom, boys. After a quick "don't be a clown" safety chat delivered with a heavy dose of side-eye (yeah, we’re looking at you, Jonno), it’s time to light up the sky. With 25 clays each, you’ll either channel your inner Ash Williams and rain down boomstick justice, or at least learn to hit something smaller than the broad side of a barn. Whether they're crossing, rising, or screaming overhead, you'll need eyes like a hawk and the nerves of a bomb squad tech to come out on top of the leaderboard.
Once you’ve turned enough clay to dust to build a small desert and the smell of spent gunpowder has truly settled into your pores, we’re hauling your sweaty hides to a proper Sydney watering hole. A frosty jug of liquid gold will be waiting, colder than your mother-in-law’s stare. The buck can decide if he’s sharing or if he needs all the liquid courage he can get to survive the roasting he’s about to endure. This is the calm before the storm, where the tall tales about "that one night outside the bar" start flying as fast as the clays did.
By now, your guts will be rumbling louder than your mate Dazza’s rust bucket ute. Our Irish pub’s got you sorted with legendary tucker that’ll stick to your ribs. We’re talking golden-brown schnittys bigger than your head, burgers that require a jaw like a crocodile, and enough chips to build a small fort. It's the kind of feast that demands a loosened belt and a complete lack of shame. Don’t fret, we’ll make sure the buck gets an extra coldie, he’ll need it to wash down all the "helpful" marriage advice and the inevitable stories about his questionable dating secrets that the Best Man has been itching to tell.
To cap it off, we’re hitting a slick waterfront joint where another jug of amber goodness awaits. As the sun dips low and the Sydney skyline starts to shimmer, it’s the perfect spot to plan your night’s conquest or debate whether the buck should get that regrettable old tattoo covered up with something bigger before the big day. We’ve even got a top-shelf cocktail menu for any adventurous roosters in the group, no judgement here, boys, sometimes a man just needs a drink with an umbrella after a day of heavy artillery.
So, if you’re ready to blast some clay, drain some tinnies, and create stories you’ll be sworn to secrecy about until your dying breath, give us a bell. We’ll make sure this buck’s party is more legendary than Warnie’s spin and twice as cheeky! Lock and load, legends! The birds are waiting.