... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Sunday, September 11, 2011

393: Nightclubs n that in Blackpool

Blackpool Night Life

Last Saturday: my first time ever on a night out, club pub or otherwise, in a sober state of mind. Upon arriving at Blackpool's Sanuk 'sober' was the word: I felt bloated, confused, scared. Slutty couples frugging viciously against one another on the dance floor – welcome to Blackpool, baby! - face on tit, hand up skirt; bird giving it Beyonce-promo – legs open, crouch ass to the ground; shaven-headed Ben Sherman thinks he is the king pimpdaddy. 

Blackpool's predatory males have – by necessity, in battling against the visual feast of hen and stag costumes – taken peacocking to an absurd level. A man about town, with the sweet scent of hot young lady in his vibrating nostrils, must dress in full combat fatigues or a fireman costume. He approaches a target knowing she will want to try on his hat; this is his substitute for genuine charm, personality, wit or likeability. Peacocking.

Being in a night club with just a glass of water in my hand, and clarity in my mind and eyes, is seriously strange. The place seemed lighter than expected. Everyone's behaviour, speech, movements, everything was too ludicrous for words. Despite feeling hugely self-conscious I needed to dance; every time I stopped for a moment I realised how dreadful the environment was. 

Desperately disgusting and annoying people clawing and climbing over one another; absurdly unsexy posturing at the end of every eye-line. That bizarre duck-face pout that women seem to have adopted en masse as being a desirable look. For some time I was able to forget myself and step away from my tedious I'm-better-than-all-you onlooker status, and get lost in an extended mix of old school hip-hop and early-90's pop rave.

Sanuk seemed to have all the properties of a good nightclub: three rooms (one playing rock, pop and hip hop classics, one urban, and the third was Hed Kandi. It was not bad. There was also an outdoor terrace with sheltered seating, a bar, and a kitchen selling bacon butties – fantastic! All they need is a metal night, and for me to be ten years younger, and I'd be a regular. Anyhoo, I fancy I may not be the target audience for a place like this, so it's just one of those things where I'll have to come to terms with the fact that my opinion on the subject is of no value. Good night :)

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