Friday, October 22, 2004
An amusing not-quite-clubbing tale from Gawker.com. In my own nightlife exploits, I always aim for equal parts debauchery and farce, with more or less success. I am particularly hanging out for the kind of riotous good evening that could be described, in Jeremy's memorable phrase, as a "cavalcade of insanity". I saw Dougie today in JB Hi-Fi (where, for once in my life, I couldn't see anything I wanted to buy), and he said, "Are you up to any mischief?"
I replied, "No, but I'm up for any mischief!"
I am even fonder of writing that encapsulates the stupidity of nightclubbing. So I laughed out loud when I read this on Gawker.com. My favourite part of the story is the gruff French bouncer
I also loved the part where Ludacris shows up at the club: "When he moved, I moved, but that pesky velvet rope got in the way."
Just like that? Hell yeah! Hey DJ, bring that back!
I replied, "No, but I'm up for any mischief!"
I am even fonder of writing that encapsulates the stupidity of nightclubbing. So I laughed out loud when I read this on Gawker.com. My favourite part of the story is the gruff French bouncer
who sported a black and white striped shirt straight from the Hamburglar’s
wardrobe. The only words I was able to decipher through his heavy accent were “robble, robble.”
I also loved the part where Ludacris shows up at the club: "When he moved, I moved, but that pesky velvet rope got in the way."
Just like that? Hell yeah! Hey DJ, bring that back!
