In the end

So happened like this that I was in Westend last Friday night when ____ of m____s called and asked me to brazilian superstar dj club night at the End at new monthly residency of her teenage friend who is probably known to you as dj marky. I pretend to be Mr Somebody Vetro for benefit of the door people checking the guestlist and then, we're in the sweltering belly of the club in heavy winter coats.

So tonight's story goes: There is a perfectly nice NZ chick in a leopard-print dress really sticking to me. But I get up from the sofa turn my back on her to go over to the young blonde girl who keep staring at me from the other side of the room.

She is young and beautiful and English, all of these exotic things to me... So we are talking. She is asking me about drugs, about what different things feel like. She wants to know from me, they have really never done these things before, but she is curious and adventurous. Suddenly, though, she have lost all interest in me. Who are we sitting with? Her friend also blonde quite pretty, and an ugly, balding, short English guy with some gold chains around his neck and like this, holding a cocktail. This is ____, and actually, he is the owner of the club, and his some friend join the group then too. And I have lost her attention... -Does it impress you that he own this club? I asking sourly... Phil and his mate are talking about some lines of K... my God, you're not gonna give these kids K, I laugh... oh, um, charlie I mean, they correct themselves... little lines... gonna make you feel more affable my dear... so they four remove themself to the lavatory...

I look around and the club is closing, mostly empty already, I walk across the floor to where the security meatheads are blocking off the floor for some bullshit VIP area and they stop me... -I was just sitting there with ___, they are suddenly deferential and let me through... I am off up the stairs and bye, fuck this shit tonight...

Maybe you would rather hear about what the music is like? Because plus marky also here is Gilles Peterson who you also may have heard of. The music is good and these people deserve their fame. Although I am in the other room half the night because it's more bouncy and dancehall in there. And it was a good night and a good crowd and you were all beautiful and you will never grow old.

Trying to get back to north London two bus drivers throw me off the night bus for having an expired ticket. I have been out this night as a beggar, and stole the wine I drank from a shop, and can afford one damn £5.60 drink at this club, and lucky then I find some guy who give me some his skunk for £2, because I'm self-employed and the cheques didn't come through, and like this. Yeah, I am feeling like a beggar when I get home and don't know why going to a club night should make me feel like this. So fuck it, that was my club review.