I’m not sure how many esteemed fellow cunters used to/currently go to Nightclubs on a regular basis, but I would imagine all of us at one time can recall just how fucking shite they were, and indeed still are by all accounts. My raving days encompassed the mid-90s to the 00s; The last time I ever set foot in one of these rotten fucking meat-markets was January 2009. Thank fuck. You are basically sold the premise of some drug-fuelled, lust-utopia fuckfest out of a Lars Von Trier film. The harsh reality is far, far less fucking appetising.
In modern times, you basically pay between £10 and £20 to enter some flea-ridden, barely-lit, unwanted piece of commerical real estate under a fucking bridge or something. You proceed to get treated like utter fucking shite from start to finish by everyone from the cloak-room cunt to the barstaff to the big bolshy shitcunt bouncers. You then pay a fucking premium on lukewarm Coronas, and settle in to watch a handful of people pull amongst the sweating, heaving dancefloor, under the illusion that you are somehow missing out.
Meanwhile, the half-cast Asian on the wheels of steel spins out yet another biscuit-tin beat shit-cut at tinitis-inducing overpowering volume, and you begin to wonder why the fuck you do this to yourself week in and week out, as your innards pulse the half-digested korma and bottled piss-lager down your intestinal tract thanks to the ground-shaking fucking bass.
Piss-soaked carpets of stairs between levels are festooned with cunts out of their skull, probably driven in equal parts by peer pressure and a subliminal desperation to escape the fucking nightmare of the nightclub experience, and fat slags squeezed into ill-fitting Primark one-pieces cackle otherworldly on their office night out.
The mercy of closing time finally arrives, and the harsh lights reveal just how fucking disgusting everything is, with everyone herded out like fucking lobotomy outpatients and sent off into the freezing cold to negotiate the fallen scumcunts on the pavement, and the legion of unlicensed, non-English speaking shades of excrement hollering at you “you vant taxi take taxi please”.
Nightclubs were always fucking shite, and I’m frankly delighted that I don’t need to pretend that I love going to them anymore. They are closing <i>en masse</i> these days, due to less interest from millenials who prefer to take photos of themselves all night. Well, just like even human shite has a useful by-product as fertiliser, so too apparently do millenial anti-social tendencies – fuck the nightclubs and everything about them. Each and every one of them can go bust as far as I’m concerned.
Nominated by. The Empire Cunts Back.