Red Rum meets Grand Theft Auto
Posted by Endless Nights
* Monday, 8 February 2010 at 04:44 pm
We continued to nurture our French-Anglo relations with our
latest escapade on Friday, this time at the Tales of the Unexpected
Night at Proud.
Just because we could, we scooted a couple of Parisians straight
from the Eurostar and into the increasingly popular venue in the
heart of Camden's stables market. What these baguette wielding
wildcats expected I'm not sure - but we're quite sure it wasn't
Miami... in the 80s. The synth-pop coupled with garish disco lights
made us feel like Tony from Grand Theft Auto - only without all the
killing and crime (although £4 a drink did feel a little
close to the wrong side of the law).
Despite the urge to purchase a flame thrower and 'take care' of
some people (or whatever Tony does in GTA), we went exploring. A
live funk-rock band brought us back to, well, somewhere closer to
home before stilt walking women took our mind somewhere else
entirely. We must push on we thought, only to find ourselves
melting down in a Hunter S. Thompson-esque visual hallucination.
Scanning the room we saw stables, but only they weren't filled with
hay and saddles but dancing poles and disco lights. Where were the
horses we thought? Were they led away by the same decadent
assortment of beautiful things that now filled their stables? We
couldn't be sure and were afraid to ask so instead opted for
another whisky and coke and asked the Parisians if they had ever
heard of Red Rum.
We pranced around on the dance floor amid the assortment of all
sorts that filled the main room. WAG wannabes and general trendy's
filled the space, all under the judgemental gaze of Debbie Harry
(there's a, er, Debbie Harry photography exhibition on at the
moment). Had it been the real Debbie, we think she would have
approved of what she saw. Well at least until the lights went
up.
Revellers were under no allusions that it was time to drag
themselves home and step back to reality when the strip lights
flicked on. Only, our Parisian wildcats had to retrieve their bags
from the cloakroom. A long wait was expected and for many that was
just what they got. But we had brought the French - and on this
occasion (and this occasion only) - we saluted their inability to
queue and were out of there before you could say J'adore le
Discotheque.