Londoners Magazine

I’ve been getting old for quite some time now. Ever since I subscribed to the Daily Mail, considered voting Tory at the last election and woke up next to a Sheryl Crow album, I’ve been awaiting that first grey hair to signal my free fall into old age.

But the true sign of my receding youth is my intolerance. While I haven’t started complaining about “the damn immigrants taking our jobs and taking our women” or pursed my lips at the thought of civil
marriage, I have found myself completely incapable of enjoying a night on the tiles without curdling my face at the state of my fellow man (and what appear to be his woman).

We’ll start with the clothes. Recently I’ve seen more gee than a gynaecologist. From discreet flash or full on gash, as the fairer of the species get leathered up on liqueur, their knickers get left behind in the scramble to the bottom. The rule of thumb seeming to be, the rougher the runt, the more apparent the c***.

Men are playing their own role in this clothing calamity. No sooner have they got into their Ben Sherman shirts then they’ve got straight back out of them, waving them above their heads, freeing their moobs for all to see.

Soon these topless miscreants are cementing their new found friendships with equally sweaty Betty’s by jumping up and down on the dance floor, spilling drinks and being obnoxious.

The dance floor is for dancing. It’s not a catwalk for Oompa Loompas parading the latest shade of orange around a mountain of handbags. It’s not a place for music aficionados to nod appreciatively while remaining rigid. And it’s certainly not a place to send your finger where many the finger has gone before.

No means no. It means you’re not getting in, you’re not on the list and you haven’t got a hope. Show some self respect and shut your mouth when you’re turned down, be it by babe or by bouncer. Shouting obscenities at either just improves their feeling of self worth and lowers yours.

Why is it that people under the age of 30 seem incapable of even sniffing a Stella Artois without losing the ability to keep their clothes on, legs shut and hands to themselves?

It’s not beyond the media to make a mountain out of a molehill but in this case it would appear that the many are ruining a night out for the few.