i-want-more

Club foot

On Friday I spent an evening in the company of Mrs West and her sister Mrs Stewart, whom had come down from Derby for the evening, at a club called XFM First Friday.

A few observations:

Alex Zane is about the same size as Kermit the Frog, and about as credible.

Karaoke with a live band is terrifying: I salute the ladies for having a go but there was no chance on earth that I'd do it.

When we arrived at about 9.45, some of the people coming into the club were barely able to stand. Now I'm all for having a drink before arriving at your destination, believe me, but that seemed excessive.

Early on, we witnessed a pretty disturbing event with a very drunk girl which unsettled Mrs West to such a degree that she asked security to deal with it. The details are pretty sordid so I won't go into them here.

Best song of the night was Justice vs. Simian, by a mile. It was the only thing that made me want to throw myself about with abandon.

Indie clubs are no longer the place for shy, be-fringed blokes in over-sized jumpers who stare at their shoes. Instead, they appear to be populated with packs of lads with untucked shirts and gold chains. I assume this is because what was once known as indie music has crossed over to the mainstream in such a big way. Another factor may have been that the beer was very cheap, what with it being a beverage-sponsored venue. That leads me onto this...

The old riot grrrl climbs onto her soapbox
As a woman, it was usually the case when you went out to clubs that there would be a certain amount of drunk men, trying to badger you into conversation and invading your personal space. These aggressive tactics don't tend to go down well with many women, yet this behaviour persists, probably because most women don't confront the men who are pestering them. Why would we? Usually, the last thing we want is a scene, we just want to get away from the person who is hassling us and get on with having a good time.

There was a lot of the wrong kind of attention coming our way on Friday.

You may be thinking 'this is a person who has been in a relationship so long she has forgotten what it feels like to be on her own and looking for someone'. To that I say, back in the early 90s when I was several years single and wondering if I was going to end up alone in a hovel surrounded by cats, I still didn't welcome the hassle I received. There is a difference between attention that is sought out and attention that is unwanted. The factor that changes this is alcohol. Add in a few pints of lager, and where is the line drawn? Am I seeking out attention by dancing? By leaning on a bar? By standing at the edge of a dancefloor, with my hand resting on my hip (while scowling)?

I can see that this is neither well-argued nor leading to any kind of satisfying conclusion and I probably sound like an ancient old Tory, sat in a winged armchair, smoking a pipe while chuntering about national service. I'm also fully aware that women can be as bad when they hunt in packs (look at the behaviour of any girls you might see on a hen night).

To be frank, I didn't enjoy being at the club very much on Friday. On the plus side, it was fun to see the ladies and have a good dance (even if a lot of the music wasn't really my thing).

In future posts, I'd like to take a look at a couple of the clubs that I consider to be the pinnacle of my going-out experiences. More soon.

posted by deafdisco @ 7:29 am