I’ll elaborate on the title in a second, but just know that I’ve been writing this blog post in my head since I got in the queue on Saturday night. My first queue for a club in about ….six years? Jesus.
I even went on the Facebook page that afternoon and put us on the guest-list so we qualified for a free Jagerbomb.
(The best bit: it wasn’t even a Jagerbomb and when we went to the bar, confused, and proffering these bits of paper that said Promo Drink, the barman had to explain what this weird other drink was. In the end he said “it’s free and it’s alcoholic – will that do?” …yes please thank you sir.)
If you’re like me, feeling old as balls even though you’re probably statistically in the prime of your life, and normally treat yourself to a podcast in bed at 11pm, occasionally reminiscing the days where you went out before snuggling down with a hot chocolate – live through me and my Saturday night to know clubbing hasn’t changed since 2012.
I realised I was out of my depth when we entered the queue. This is a really niche reference, so if you get it please Tweet me and let me know but the girl in front of me in the queue really reminded me of Effy’s friend from her episode in Series 1 of Skins. You know the one that borrows tights off her mum and says “I don’t think many orgy’s happen in Luton?”
Oh, and I also couldn’t take my eyes off the guy who had dinner plates for pupils and kept trying to gnaw his friends ear off. He was pretty interesting as well.
Once we were inside, I instantly became aware I was wearing too many clothes. I was wearing a top AND a bra and I think now your options are one or the other?! I honestly need scaffolding to hold myself up so I think that’s me tapping out of that craze for now.
Also, do people not wear tights anymore?! They must have gone out of fashion when I was in baby-land because I felt incredibly overdressed with my 80 deniers on.
However, I did see someone wearing what looked like a Knickerbox for Ann Summers bodice tucked into some skinny jeans, so I guess she missed a memo as well. And the girl wearing obligatory denim shorts with patterned tights – good to know that 2009 style is still going strong. Big up.
I was standing there watching people not know the words to songs like I Believe In A Thing Called Love by The Darkness (honestly, this guy was stood there looking like Mark Corrigan in that picture above whilst all his friends were performing dramatic air-guitar solos, it was beautiful.)
Dog Days Are Over by Florence And The Machine as well. I realised it was a ~classic tune for all the people born in this millennium whereas I remember it being her only single on her Myspace page and Flo being on BBC Breakthrough Music.
One of the other highlights was, as we meandered from room to room trying to find somewhere to dance and/or people watch – a full series of Hollyoaks happened in the same corner of an emergency exit.
First I saw a guy get cornered by a group of girls, and he was having to explain himself. Then I saw the girls in the toilets squeezing into the same cubicle to relay his message to whoever he’s offended. Then, in the final act, I saw the evident main girl confront the guy about whatever the fuck he’d done, and by the time we left they were getting off. The circle of life.
I also heard someone saying, excitedly, “we’ll stay here until about 2, half 2 and then we’ll go on to somewhere else, yeah? That sound like a plan?”
Mate. I was yawning at 1am and managed to drag my friend home at about 1:45 (that might be an exaggeration, it was probably half past.),
So my guide to clubbing as a 25 year old married mother of one is: go and be Mark Corrigan. Be Louis Theroux at the orgy.
Don’t get sucked in, because you end up drinking Blue VK (WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO I THINK I AM?!) whilst watching people born in 2001 sing Shotgun by George Ezra and hurting your neck dancing to Slipknot in the ~alternative room.
But still go, because it’s hilarious and you can always get chips on the way home.
Right. I’m off for a sleep because it’s Tuesday afternoon and I am still knackered from getting home at 2:30am.