went to the Riverside a few times but only for bands, never a club night.
Ah, the days.
One a few up in the Pyrenees reminds me of a ski trip one in Les deux Alpes. For reasons best left unexplained, we’d just been refused entry to a bar due to a/ general pissedness; and b/ me being dressed in one of those paper suits they give nonces while they’re swabbing their clothes. I have to expand that I’m not a nonce, it was from the clean room at a mate’s work, and it had also been ‘decorated’ with drawn on NASA style insignia to make it look like a space suit. Although the rocket motif was decidedly coack-and-ballsy.
Anyway – while mulling over how to continue our journey from being proper pissed to mortal, a bloke comes tearing up in an open top US army style jeep, beckons us over and invites us to go to his ‘shitty little’ club. After some brief negotiation (‘does it have beer?’ ‘Yes’ ‘OK’) he took us there. It was little, and quite shitty, but our first beers were free. We were mulling over whether to stay or go when the most extraordinary thing happened. The music stopped, the dance floor cleared, and 2 lasses (Lolita and Anita, apparently) came onto the floor and simulated some quite filthy acts. Then they came round with a bucket for tips and that was that.
We became regulars for the rest of the week, and by Thursday had been promoted from queueing punters to fully fledged jump the queue VIP room types (OK, a bit of a roped off area but where your beers were brought to you)
I can’t for the life of me tell you what it was called, because I was was very, very drunk.
