As the bouncer’s hands pat their way towards my stash, a long-forgotten fear grips me. I’ve come to the club straight from my supplier, absolutely brimming with drugs. An instinctive panic rises as the body search inches towards the “hot pocket”; the bouncer’s eyes raise as they squeeze at the shape of the contents. Time slows to a crawl, and my palpitations begin to verge on a medical emergency. Then, at long last, they nod and wave me inside. Knowing, perhaps, that I’m just carrying statin medication and the only thing getting hammered today is my cholesterol.
It is 3.30pm on a Saturday afternoon and, inside London’s Scala, the all-day Club de Fromage is a grooving maelstrom of millennials and Generation X unleashed. Couples who have ditched the kids at grandma’s for the day are here in Kings Cross reliving their honeymoon years to “Waterloo” and George Michael’s “Faith”. Euphoric singalongs to “Bohemian Rhapsody” break out among what appear to be yummy mummy groups that have leapt off WhatsApp, polished off the lunchtime prosecco and gone very, very rogue. All this to say, I have joined the day-clubbing set: that more mature, refined, and revitalised generation of party lovers who want to suck the marrow out of their weekend and still get home in time for The 1% Club.
