Kirsty Bosley: There's no party like a hen do! We're barking mad for them

I will be whizzing around in a hen-do branded shirt, straddling a blow-up doll like Harry Potter on a Nimbus 2000. I've got a shot glass on a necklace from which I hope to religiously and regularly guzzle Apple Sours like a Catholic at mass.

I have grand plans to douse a stripper in baby oil, like a pyromaniac with a can of petrol. I plan to touch more quivering stomachs than a gastroenterologist. I want to chat up a man 10 years my junior and I want to show Liverpool what Black Country babs on tour can do on the dance floor (dance, obv).

This weekend, we're celebrating with my good university friend as she gears up for a happy lifetime of marriage. We're heading to Liverpool, a place that she loves, to see her off. But I've overreacted up there. I know there's going to be some shenanigans (I already put down my deposit on a hen-do shirt and a sailor hat) but realistically, I think we'll be giving the blow-up people and plastic appendages a miss.

Instead, we're going to a dance lesson, followed by dinner. It's a relaxed and grown-up evening of fun and laughs. It's a big step from the only other hen do I've been on (which also took place in Liverpool, coincidently), in which we got smashed and played kick-about with an inflatable body part which looked a bit like the big pointing finger that used to come down from the heavens to say 'it could be you!' on the Lottery adverts.

Hen parties are strange, in almost every conceivable way. I'm not sure when pink, furry cowboy hats and the cheap plastic veils became a popular British tradition, but they are. For most brides, the hen do is the first time that they actually see their mum as a proper person and not just a modest deity – it's not a hen do until your mum shouts lewd things at a naked stranger while brandishing a can of Anchor squirty cream.

Nothing is out of bounds on this kind of do, particularly if you travel to another city for it. Misbehaviour comes as standard and hangovers are inevitable.

We're mad for hen parties, us Brits. In fact, a woman up in Lancashire has spent £6,000 on a lavish knees-up, despite the fact that the bride-to-be is a DOG.

No, really. A dog grooming salon owner booked a stretch limo, spa trip and a stripper for her pampered chihuahua Chi Chi so she could have the 'send off' that she 'deserved'. What?!

Apparently, Helen Turner's dog 'fell in love' with a friend's pet Pomeranian Harvey, and they're meant to be. So as well as throwing a mega six grand hen party, she's gearing up to spend £20,000 on their wedding. That's TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS, for clarity. What is going on?!

Helen said: "Whenever they met they would be completely love-struck – playing together and licking each other's ears – flirting with each other really.

"Harvey's owner lives in Bournemouth, so we only meet up a few times during the year – but it's always the same when they're reunited, they can't get enough of each other."

Can we all take a moment to absorb the information that a dog has a better love life than many of the fully-grown adults that we know? No one has flirted with me since at least 1998 at a school disco. What gives, Chi Chi?

Talking about the bash that Helen threw for her dog, she said: "I went all out with the hen party – I wanted to give Chi Chi a great send-off into married life. I hired a pink limousine to take Chi Chi and her girlfriends from my house to the salon I run, and I made the whole shop completely pink."

She has girlfriends! Oh god, I think I want this dog's life.

"There were pink balloons everywhere, L plates, two specially made doggy cakes – all the hen party traditions. I had a butler in the buff to serve the dogs smoked salmon canapés, and two waitresses dressed as flamingos to hand out doggy cocktails made from chicken stock.

"I think the butler thought it was all a bit barmy at first – but by the end he said it was the best hen party he'd ever been to, because there were no drunk women.

"We had competitions for the best dressed pooch, a magician and a pampering session – like a doggy spa day, with face packs, hair extensions, manicures and pedicures and even fur-jazzles – Chi Chi had a heart shaped one.

"She wore a special dress for the occasion and she was the centre of attention – she even had a Chinese crested powder puff called Yoshi as her stripper.

"All the dogs loved it, it was an amazing day."

I don't know what to say. I'm partly bemused, partly impressed but mostly completely and utterly envious. I think I know what I want to come back as if it transpires that reincarnation is a thing.

Though the hen party I'm on this weekend won't have any of the lavish ceremony of Chi Chi's do, it's set to be great fun. My friend is gearing up for one of the most wonderful (and hectic – I think I heard something like '600 guests') days of her life, and it's going to be so ace to head to a city that she adores to celebrate.

Like Chi Chi's party, there might be L plates and cakes, friends and special dresses.

No matter what happens though, I'm not having a fur-jazzle.

No way.