Saturday, December 11, 2004

Kashpoint - different clubbing

Kashpoint - Best night's clubbing in ages. Although, apparently, it's old hat (proves I wasted my twenties).

Most surprisingly, it was at Central Station. Yeah, I know. Only time I went there I mistook the backroom for the toilets. Only to discover I wasn't the first person to do that. *shudder*

This time was different - there was a giant pom-pom standing on the door selling tickets. Inside, everyone was dressed in a weird collision between punk and 1930s Berlin (without Lia Minelli). There were fluorescent flappers, gentlemen dressed for a weekend's hunting, battered bowler hats, and an Edwardian fellow with a pleasant, open face and a shock of curly hair.

It was like a sci-fi convention organised by the Scissor Sisters, with cocktails by Kate Bush. There was shouted, live music on the ground floor, seedy christmas carols by candlelight upstairs, and downstairs women dressed as undertakers danced to mashed-up Beatles tracks.

It was so amazing, I felt almost completely at ease. I only had a mini panic attack - and went and hid in the backroom, smoking a calming cigarette while surrounded by weirdly dressed random shaggers.

Met a geographer called Russell out in the club. He was vaguely puzzled "I only came here for a quick half," he muttered. He was lovely, if rather ironic. He gently swatted away a pass from me with the phrase, "Well, if it wasn't so weird in here, well, I would. But it is. Last time I came to play pool and ended up pissing on someone, so hey."

That somewhat took the shine off him. The varnish was completely removed when I left and discovered him with his hands down a fat man's pants on the pavement.

But what an amazing evening's clubbing.

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