Well. I’ve finally visited Bijou.

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My friends are all either on holiday or tied down with kids or paying off mortgages or whatever the fuck responsible people in their late twenties and early thirties do.

So this bank holiday- last night- I decided there was no fucking way I was staying in like a sad bastard, playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on a loop, sobbing into my Glenfiddich.

 [http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnigNbYVQJE]

Everybody needs a change, right?

I lone-wolfed it into Manchester thinking I might check out Victoria’s lap dancing club but I managed to fight the urge. I drove in and scouted a few places out, but by the time I’d fucked about walking all over Manchester I figured there was only one place I wanted to check.

Bijou is possibly the most pretentious place in Manchester. I paid £20 just to get in as I wasn’t on the guest list. I walked in through the garden, past the shisha bar, into the warm club, patrons with their patronising glances still filling it up. I managed to blag a free drink. Don’t ask how. I saw loads of dolly birds and retired boxer / cokehead Ricky Hatton trying to dance. Hatton was getting his picture taken with some waistcoated Asians. In all fairness, at least they were making an attempt on the dancefloor. Most people were just stood around watching the live saxophonist. Like me. Having said that, In a moment of bizarre gender-role-reversal, I did see a bloke trying to grind against his mrs- from in front. Weird.

The toilets were clean, which is a good sign.

The music was mostly RnB, the women mostly white (with bad make-up), the men mostly black.

At around 1am, the music edged out of RnB and into House, at long last. I heard maybe 3 decent songs all night, including Au Seve,

which was bootlegged with Beyonce’s Beautiful Nightmare, ruining it anyway. This explains why only 5 people were dancing throughout the majority of the night.

At 1am, a pretty, dark-haired girl got thrown out for squaring up to a bloke, who himself left not long after. A black girl stumbled out of the toilets, touching her nose. A drunk woman struggled to tear up a laminated drinks menu to use it as a fan.

I’ve never seen so much silicone in one place. It fulfilled my expectations, shall we say. I left at 3, when the “party” was still in “full swing”.

Victorias was shut when I went back to my car.

Although I’ve ripped the place, I still think it’d be pretty funny to get a few mates together and check it out. And remember: this was a bank holiday Sunday: a night called “Geek”. The regular Friday / Saturday nights could be much better. Doubt they’ll be cheaper, mind.

(Side note: I’ve tried to upload a sound file to a new PatBatemanBlog Soundcloud profile, but my computer can’t find the file from my Xperia P. Any suggestions?)

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