So Wrong it’s Right.

Great tech/deep house music in a nice intimate little club. WRONG! at the Union club fit the bill when I was looking for a venue to carry on from the early hours well into Saturday morning celebrating my birthday. Vauxhall is another old stomping ground from back in the day and I hadn’t been clubbing there for the best part of fifteen years, so I was really looking forward to it. But times change, and my fond memories of queuing for hours on end outside the Chunnel club on a Sunday lunchtime for Sunny Side Up while the only two jolly bouncers I’ve ever met in my life relieved the boredom by acting as a two man comedy show, then finally getting in and ‘avin it bigstyle with a room full of NASAs until who knows what hour were proved to be as outdated as my glow-stick-raver attitude. That’s not to say I didn’t meet anyone with a NASA at Wrong because I met some sorted little characters who were a pleasure to party with, but there were certainly others with somewhat dubious intentions (like: touch arse first;ask questions later; oh, husband present? Turn away immediately and talk to friends. Charming. Good luck with that tac, mate.)

No matter. One good friend (one of those who wasn’t coming clubbing) kept most in line by telling any male that came within an inch of me and the other ladies in our party: she’s married, she is. (I get loads of that in France because apparently if you are female with a pulse you're fair game and apparently us petite fleurs need protecting. Bollocks to that!) We had to keep telling him who was safe, no worries. Not that he remembers any of it.

Shame he wasn’t there to keep hubby out of trouble. Just when we’d decided it was time to go, he (hubby) almost got waltzed off the dance floor by a very tall gay guy. Obviously I stepped in, as he didn’t look like he could help himself.

‘What?’ said gay guy. ‘I’m fucking gay!’

‘I couldn’t give a fuck if you are gay,’ I said. ‘He (hubby) is not!’

Why on earth the fool (hubby) thought it would be funny to blow kisses from across the dance floor to gay guy, I later found out, I do not know (sorry gay guy). I suspect alcohol or something played some part in it.

I met a guy called Alex, from Poland. I asked him if there was anything like this over there.

‘No,’ he said, ‘nothing as good as this. I have lived in England for eight years and I am never going back. And by the way, my name is Adam.’

Right name or not, he’s not wrong. Why would you? You have to admit, no one parties quite like the Brits, though the Spanish are right up there. I’ve lived in and travelled many countries and the rave scene has filtered through to most of them in some form or other, but it always seems to me to be a somewhat diluted version of its grassroots beginnings. And let’s not even talk about the corporately orchestrated ‘EDM’ in the States.

So yeah, those friends. Not only did they come clubbing to WRONG!, they outdid me! After leaving the Union Club at about 10am, they went back to home turf and went to the pub, while I curled up in my nice hotel room and slept all day. If you have kids, you know what a luxury that simple pastime is.

And do you know what? After all that protesting and fear of not being able to handle it any more, everyone of us felt refreshed and all the better for a proper night out.

#techhouse #deephouse #wrong #vauxhall #unionclub #nasa #ravescene #diluted #grassroots