Category Archives: Club Review

Review: Hootananny Brixton

Have you ever been in a pub and thought to yourself… what this place needs is a shitload of passive aggressive people, sweating profusely and jumping up and down to the sounds of some kooky rock band that never quite made it but wholeheartedly refuses to give up…?


You HAVE? Fantastic!


Let me tell you about Hootananny, Brixton’s weirdest (i.e. worst) night out.


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So, What’s It Like?

Like a pub, designed by someone who hates pubs. One half of this grime-encrusted netherworld is really very much like a good old public house, it’s got a snooker table and everything.

The other is more of a school assembly hall, with a stage at the end. Massive velvet curtains too, harbouring small colonies of undiscovered species. There’s also a bar, but it’s been carefully hidden behind a monstrous crowd of slobbering drunks, so you might not see that.

Outside there are many marquees, and street food vendors selling some sort of garlic coated pizza thing, presumably in an effort to add a smattering of halitosis to the rich and varied scents drifting about the place.

There are also patio heaters, conveniently placed in the centre of the marquees, threatening to sizzle the skin off of anyone brave enough to attempt to pass them. So that’s fun!


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Don’t Miss

The toilets. Seriously, these funky-smelling things would give the good old festival toilet experience a run for its money… but that’s not even the best bit! The toilets at Hootannany also come with LIVE MUSIC!!

Here entertainment is provided by the attendants, who delight in screeching the most indecent of lyrics, stopping every so often to shout at you to hurry yourself up. Who doesn’t love to pee under pressure?



Will I Get In?

Hootannany Brixton reckons itself as some of member’s club, delusions of grandeur so hysterically funny you’ll forgive me for taking a few moments just to compose myself.

As you enter mysterious people in a hut whip a few quid from your desperate, nervous little hands, then glare at you as a strapping security guard frisks you to within an inch of your life. Only then are you presented with Hootenanny’s special membership card, which apparently gets you money off when you come back.

Why you would return after experiencing Hootannany once, though, is anyone’s guess.



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Will I Find Love?

No. You won’t. Because within minutes of being granted entry to this entirely tragic arena of awfulness you’ll feel so utterly dejected you’ll consider throwing yourself in front of a bus, before deciding that actually just going home would probably take the pain away.




Who Goes?

  1. People who hate music.
  2. Failed bands.
  3. People who want to fight you.



The Verdict:

Absolutely not.



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95 Effra Rd,
Greater London

020 7737 7273


Why No One Should Ever Go To Walkabout

A sort of village hall come student union, Walkabout is the undisputed king of shit nights out. Like a weeping sore on the banks of the Thames, this miserable chamber of inebriation is immediately recognisable by its garish yellow and green logo, which has the audacity to suggest Australia has actually endorsed it. 


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Club Review: Fabric, Charterhouse Street

Fabric is, without a doubt, the best club in London. Probably the best thing in London, come to think of it. Buckingham Palace has got nothing on this place.





What’s It Like? 

It’s one of the capital’s most famous nightclubs, located rather bizarrely in a big old meatpacking warehouse. Once you’ve safely manoeuvred the queues and survived a short groping session by their rather over-friendly security staff you’ll find yourself within a gargantuan maze of depravity, filled to the brim with the most ‘cheerful’ people in town.


Who Goes? 

The Fabric crowd can be quickly summarised in six handy bullet points:


The Ones That Are Off Their Heads

They’re dancing on the stage. They think it’s ok to take their t-shirts off and rub strangers in their icky sweat. They’ll never make it out alive.


The Sunglasses Indoors Lot 

They’ve got Ray-Bans on. Can they actually see anything? We may never know.


The Confused Tourists

They’ll be huddled together like penguins, valiantly attempting to enjoy a night out in this bizarre city where people wear sunglasses indoors.


The Stiletto Girls

They’re the ones tottering about in 4-inch heels, a look of abject misery etched across their faces. They didn’t know what Fabric was. They want to go home.


The Suits 

They’ve been for a few drinks after work and ended up in Fabric. In their suits. Their wives are furious.


The Old Folk 

They’ll be old, like bus pass old, but they’ll be going for it. Usually to be found in the midst of the crowd, constantly being congratulated by the people of Category One.




Will I Find Love?

Absolutely not. No way. But you will find a million new best friends. You might even hug them.


Fun Fact: 

Fabric’s toilets are unisex. Which is weird. You have to know which side to go to. It’s like playing Russian Roulette. I went the wrong way once. I still can’t talk about it.




Should I Go? 

Yes yes YES. It’s brilliant. Like Disneyland for the inebriated. But don’t wear stilettos for god’s sake.


10/10 – do it.

Club Review: Libertine, Fitzrovia

Libertine is one of Fitzrovia’s newest clubs, having recently eaten up the space which once was Chinawhite.


I never went to Chinawhite, mainly because it sounded like a sort of swarovski-encrusted hellhole frequented by Barbie girls and that certain class of males, who we will, for now, call ‘the poachers’*.


Libertine, though, is a whole nother story. There’s not a smattering of sparkle to be found in the place. Instead there are bizarre signs, screaming profanities in glaring shades of neon.

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Electronic Lockdown at Vault, Waterloo

There’ll be something afoot in the tunnels beneath Waterloo station next weekend…

Saturday February 22 2014 
22:30 – 03:00 

For one night only Vault will be bringing Electronic Lockdown to this subterranean world, bringing with them an eclectic mix of electronic music in a labyrinth – to be enjoyed within the spooky surrounds of these old access tunnels and secret chambers.

Vault Festival Poster

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Club Review: Ziggy’s, York

When it comes to historical importance this magnificent arena of intoxication is akin to the city’s grand Minster, and as such the people of York have come to depend on Ziggy’s, and to love it as one might love a child – if that child were ugly, and incredibly clammy.

Continue reading Club Review: Ziggy’s, York