Fuck London. It's a dying city run by a braying buffoon intent on tearing down every venue that dares stay open after Newsnight to build more anodyne flats and branches of Primark. Nightclubs love girls who just want to have fun. It's why you'll often find yourself waiting in line for eternity itself and it's also why bouncers will quietly kick out random guys for looking "sketch", "thirsty", or "primal”.
Cheap nightclub feels the toilets were dirty, urine on the floor up to the seats, spiders, and cobwebs in the corners, toilet paper all over the floor, stunk of urine, and cocaine traces all over the toilet roll dispensers. Disgusted. If that's how they keep their toilets, I dread to think what the kitchen is like! When I approached one of the staff, he rudely dismissed what I said so I didn't make too much of a scene in front of other diners.
The swimming pool was right at the end of the club, by the 'gents' toilets - It felt like a private room where a bunch of 'very' wasted individuals in their boxers/thongs were trying to get it on with each other! Worst experience of clubbing.
The dance floor is home to men fighting each other because one of them looked at the other one funny, girls dancing on the pole “ironically” – to be fair, in the state of comatose drunkenness needed to survive Bridge, this is the closest thing to irony you can express – and a DJ who refuses to accept that there are limits on how often you should use an airhorn sound effect.
You stumble from failure to disappointment and end up at the bar to buy those two Jägerbombs that you hope will save the night. They won’t. At midnight, it’s full of shifty boys in trackies, girls wearing the £10 bodycon dresses you get in the cheap shops on North Street, and old divorcees looking for fresh meat. It’s a sad, desperate place, where 45-year-old women get with 18-year-old boys.
Let's be honest: nightclubs are a total front. They look cool on television and in movies but in reality, they're full of fake smiles and even faker people that are pretending to fit in by poppin' bottles. These days London clubbers seem to more into texting than dancing. Go into any club on a Friday or Saturday night and rather than the dancing hordes of yore, you're going to be confronted by the sight of a few hundred dismal looking dullards staring at their phones refreshing the feed of someone they hate-follow.
If there's anything worse than people glued to their phones, it's those fuckers who make sure everyone knows they're having the best time. If you are going to dance, please, please, please, do it properly and don't go down the ironic route. If there's one thing I hate more than people daring to invade my previous space in a club when I'm trying to talk to my mates/nod every three minutes/have a good scratch, it's the people who prance around like it's a hilarious joke.
I realize people will find this controversial but I did not like a single thing about this club, I think I just found it too overwhelming and busy with too much choice of things to see and do, all of which were so far spread out so as to not be walkable. Being from the UK I find it a shame London's nightclub is the first many tourists want to visit. London's nightclub is a dream for a lot of people but not me.
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