Wednesday, October 29
How To Survive Propaganda
Or whatever it's called now...
I was out at this club last night, which used to be called Propaganda, and is now called something-that-I-don't-remember. It was a pretty good night, but there are certain things which will get you through a night out there.
Firstly, don't go there with a few mates who started drinking before you. Especially if one of those mates is someone who you don't know, and is a mate of a mate, and is incredibly drunk, and the most annoying, obnoxious, loud and rude people you've ever met. Stand up Boni. The stupid dick. I was embarrassed to be seen anywhere near him during the tube journey to Oxford Circus, and especially walking down the street towards Propaganda. Shouting at the top of his voice, swearing left right and centre, he was being an absolute dick.
He was even more of a twat when we stopped in a Wetherspoon's for a quick pint before heading off to Propaganda. Again, being loud, obnoxious and an all-round cunt. If I never meet him again, it'll be too soon. He even managed to get kicked out of the club for squaring up to a guy who he had just spilt his pint down. What an absolute dick.
Secondly, make sure that you are not ashamed at pushing into the queue to get into the club. It was fucking huge by the time we got there, so we made our excuses and shoved in about 8 or 9 people from the front. Classic. Oh, and we'd all switched coats too, because the first time we walked past, Boni (the dick from above) was being stupidly drunk and loud, and we swear that we got spotted. Stupid dick.
Thirdly, be aware that the prices go up at midnight, from £1.50 for a vodka-coke to £2.50. I was caught out by this last night, mainly because it never used to be like that. It was always £1 for a vodka-coke all night long. I guess that's inflation for you...
Fourthly, never ever leave your drink unattended. Not because of the whole date-rape scare thing, but because it will get drunk. Twice that happened to me last night, and I was not a happy bunny.
Fifthly, don't make eye contact with the man in the toilets. As soon as you make eye contact, he wil ask you if you want any soap or some shit like that, which eventually ends up with you giving him a quid. Not last night though! I came prepared. And by prepared I mean that I just walked straight past him every time. Hurrah.
Sixthly, if you're going to dance, be drunk. It's just so much easier.
Lastly, the Burger King at Piccadilly Circus closes at 3am during the week. Approximately 20 minutes before we got there last night. And I was so ready to drop my "No Fast Food" mantra, I was that hungry. I had to make do with a pair of fucking Pop Tarts when I got home. Grrr.
