Okay I admit it. I hate clubs, the smell, and the noise, the never-ending stream of moronic drunks drooling down your ear hole or pissing on the seats. It's just an all round hideous experience that I have gone out of my way to avoid, even to the point of feigning glandular fever when invited out to one. And as a student people always seem to give me a hard time for this, "come on Will!" They gargle at me, "You're a strapping young lad! You're meant to be energetic and fuelled by a mixture of alcohol and filthy sex!" Well if you want energy you do a sport or a game or maybe bungee jump off a cliff, you do not however bounce around to the same beat for 4 hours in the hope of hitting some sort of bizarre sweet spot that makes you a good 'dancer'. Equally if you want to get drunk then going to a pub or getting a bottle of Grants from Sainsbury's and going off to shout at the pigeons would probably serve you better than £4.50 a half pint of beer. And I hear there is some sort of guild or organisation known as 'hookers' who will happily have sex with you for a fee (what will they think of next!)
So imagine my surprise when I ran out of excuses and was shoe horned by my best friend into going out clubbing with him and not only did I not jam a fork into my thigh to avoid it but I also had quite a good time. I was absolutely astounded when I got home armed with a girl's telephone number and a vague sense of achievement that I never thought could come from sweating through my best shirt under poor disco lighting.
The club in question is named McClusky's (fondly nicknamed McSlutsky's by the students of Kingston) and is situated directly next to the river Thames which, I like but there must be a lot more to it than that. We need to further analyse this night out ladies and gents to discover exactly, why I enjoyed this pointless pile of mush.
One possibility could be the good musi-oh wait...okay, probably not the music that I found myself inexpertly swaying to like a Willow being felled with a chainsaw. So maybe it was the cheap drinks? I happened to go on a Wednesday (my friend was cunning enough to avoid one of my major criticisms of clubbing there) when they have an event known as 'I Love Wednesdays' where its free entry before 11 and most of the drinks are around £2. Well! Said I, maybe this isn't so bad, there are few pubs that can give me a beer for that less, alright the beer is crap but hey what do I want, a good time?
The next thing that surprised me was the attitude of the place. As I mentioned earlier its nickname is McSlutsky's, it is this for a very distinct reason. Many people tell me that people go clubbing with the mutual understanding that they are all there to get laid. I have come to the conclusion that this is simply complete bollocks as there are some poor desperately maddened people who genuinely go to this sort of thing for fun and more often than not the sweaty teenager your trying to impress by wiggling your hips like you've got lice in your pubes will spurn your advances and add to the never-ending crushing despair of rejection.
MacSlutsky's doesn't have that problem, sure the floor is sticky from all the various amount of various fluids that has been pumped onto it and all the panting makes it hot enough to give you desert madness, but it's refreshing to see a club that realises exactly what many men hope a club will be like. A club that actually revels in the stereotype clubbing gets and delivers as opposed to most which just stamp a few pictures of scantily clad girls on the webpage to get horny young men to donate an embarrassing amount of cash to the bar for shoddily made drinks. So as I look down at my victorious slip of tissue and reach for my phone, I can honestly say that I had...oh wait, it's a fake number. Fuck clubbing.