Today’s guest post will give us a sneak peek of the London night-life.
My friend Jonny and I have set ourselves a challenge: To visit and review every night club in London. A tall order? Maybe. Will we achieve it or will our disco heads explode first? Who knows but we sure know that we’re gonna dance trying…
Firstly, we made a list. I like lists. We wrote down the name of 73 clubs before we then got bored. ‘That will do for now’, Jonny said. ‘Now shall we work through them alphabetically or put them in a hat and choose at random?’
‘Random.’ I replied. ‘And do they have to come from a hat? Because I don’t have any. I’m not a hat person. You know that.’
There is a reason why I don’t like hats. Anyway, I digress. We chose something else instead – a shoe box, if you’re really interested. After tearing up the names of all the nightclubs in London and putting them into the shoebox, we decided who would go first.
‘I’ll go first’ I said and pulled out a paper strip. Exciting.
‘Where’s that?’ Jonny said.
‘Mayfair. Idiot. All the celebrities go. And Prince Harry.’
‘Maybe you might snog him.’ Jonny said. ‘You like Gingers.’
He’s right. I do.
So Saturday came and Jonny came round. I had checked the website and we were required to glam up. A sparkly top for me. Shoes for him. After bickering and squabbling in the cab on the way, we arrived in Berkeley Street and pulled up outside the club. It had just gone 10.30 and there was already a large queue. The crowd waiting were younger than I expected. I thought it might cater for the 30+ but instead they seemed to be about ten years younger than that. Boys in their shirts and jackets, girls funked up with lots of bling. We passed through a ‘lady cloud’ as Jonny like to call it and queued. For about an hour. I can’t say the bouncers were especially friendly but I know they have to sort out the wit from the chav.
Finally, we paid our admission and got in. Descending the neon blue lit stairs made me feel like going into the Big Brother house via the Starship Enterprise. But then it was onto the dancefloor and across to the bar. The fairly low ceilinged dance floor was already fairly packed and hot. Girls gyrating, boys staring, some R’n’B tune playing. Bit of a wait at the bar, and the drinks weren’t too cheap either. I guess this is the price you pay for doing ooops upside your head with the C-Lebs.
‘Is that. Thingy from Big Brother 8?’ I pointed someone out to Jonny.
‘Or is it that other one, from Big Brother 9?’
‘No idea, Chlo. Shall we sit down?
We went to go for a table, but were instructed by a cross eyed staff member that we couldn’t sit there unless we had pre-booked and paid.
Shame really as that meant we had to stand. Or dance.
‘Shall we dance?’ I asked Jonny.
‘I don’t like R’n’B. Do you think they might play some Bulgarian flute music?’
‘Not sure. I think it’s an R’n’B night.’
‘Oh. Well. Maybe P Ha might come in with his entourage’
There was another private area, cordoned off to us Royal Spotters. The group in there seemed to be having a good time, drinking from bottles of vodka and flirting with the waitress.
More people were entering the club, it was getting hotter. Time for another drink. After this Jonny loosened up a little. He’s good at just getting on with it, even if that means doing his special ironic dance.
We got chatting to a group in the corner. Friendly enough. They said Funky Buddha was one of their favourite places. A good crowd, friendly staff and reliable DJ’s – if you like it funky and R’n’B.
Think we stayed till about two. There didn’t seemed to be a notable influx of the post pub lashed up crowd, which was good. The bouncers must be good at their job.
And then it was time to go. We didn’t have to wait long for a cab. There are always lots cruising through Mayfair and off Jonny and I went to our respective beds. So, Funky Buddha did it for me, I’d say. Great décor, good crowd. I would take my hat off to it. But as I said, I don’t like hats. Maybe next time I will tell you why.
The true identities of Jonny and Chloe must remain hidden, but some who have seen them on a night out suggest both have a striking resemblance to stand up comic Steve ‘Straw’ Hulmes