English Literature student at Kingston University and general layabout
Published July 26th 2013
A club for clubbers who wish they weren't clubbing
Ever been inside of a club and simply thought to yourself "Y'know, I really wish this mess of overpriced drink, terrible dancing and a lack of personal space could be crammed into some guy's basement?".
Well, probably not, but that is pretty much the idea behind the club that I am recommending to you in this review. Bacchus is, broadly speaking, a club in Kingston, but, unlike the alternative venues in the area, it makes no real pretence of having any class behind it. On the inside Bacchus resembles a dingy pit that is less a dive and more scientific expedition into Mariana's Trench.
Now you might think that this would be a bad thing, but instead it actually works to its favour as this serves to fend off the usual set of wankers that cling to most clubs like a really twatty limpet on an over-expensive and suspiciously sticky rock.
You know the type of people I mean: people that would identify themselves as 'clubbers', who use the word 'lad' without irony, men who describe their intention as 'on the pull', women whose faces are so caked with make-up they would constitute a bakery if it weren't for the terrible hygiene record. If by now you don't understand me, then I'm sorry to say that you are one of these people, so please go back to taking pictures of yourself pulling silly expressions with your cat just to show just how darned kooky you are to all your ardent admirers on Twitter.
Helping to dissuade these people from coming in is Bacchus' wide music play-list, and no I don't mean that they play a huge variety of the same thudding club tripe. Every night plays a different genre of music which means that you can easily check ahead of time and ensure that you can have a night out where you actually enjoy the music, as opposed to that pretend enjoyment that we all claim when going to the usual venues.
Also, by every night, I mean every night. Bacchus boasts at how it never ceases to be open, and I'm sure that should nuclear conflict transform the world into an irradiated husk, Bacchus's doors would remain open to any cockroaches wishing to chill out on reggae night. Sitting around on a Sunday evening with nothing better to do than watch the paint dry or consider what it means to exist in a world where people like you sit alone, afraid in your cheap crumbling flat with your eyes glued to the television set watching the bell-ends on Made in Chelsea complain about their lives, lives that would literally cause you to shit yourself in pure ecstasy should you walk in their Blahnik fucking shoes for just one instant? Well, stave off your incoming existential crisis by going out and getting embarrassingly drunk at Bacchus. And if that doesn't help, then at least you will have the inevitable hangover to occupy your mind with.
Making a nice change from the usual club price meaning that you have to sell your grandfather's priceless watch just to afford 3 shots and a WKD, Bacchus has a wide selection of drinks amongst which several can be purchased by any pauper willing to search behind their sofa cushions. I mean, students are the regular clientèle even when it is NOT student night, which is a pretty good indication of the lower than average pricing. If you are one of those people that truly despises their liver, then this is the place for you. A notable drink served is a 'gamma bomb', which is much like the famed 'Jager bomb', except it replaces the usual Jagermeister with absinthe. As one stupid enough to have drank this (on more than one forgotten occasion), it truly does what it would say on the tin if the tin hadn't corroded into a small metallic puddle on already sticky floor.
So, in comparison to other clubs, Bacchus fills a rather nice niche in how it appeals to the person that hates the experience of clubbing and would want to do everything to make it end as quickly as possible and forget all about it. And I wouldn't have it any other way.