Funky Buddha

Over the weekend I decided to join my colleagues for a round of straight clubbing for a change. After spending prolonged periods of time in Heaven and the gay circle this would prove to be a refreshing change and so we decided on one of the poshest avenues in Mayfair. Funky Buddha.

Now the name itself is bound to raise eyebrows but wait till you get a load of the sacrilegious den of sin we were headed to. Inside the place itself there were actually...Buddha statues around. Not sure if it was tasteless or funny but I guess it added to the ambiance of partying in a temple perhaps? Secularism gone wild hah.

I kid you not. This is a club with religious iconography.

Suffice to say, as usual partying with the posh kids they decide that having a few drinks wasn't enough. If you recall the crazy bitches I partied with the last round you can reckon what was happening next. Yes, a giant bottle of vodka worth a thousand quid (pounds). With ten of us there it would still be a hundred each and that shit burned a massive hole in my wallet. And this lads is why I don't go straight clubbing in London.

But damn was it a good experience, haven't felt this straight in ages. Went around dancing with random Hong Kong chicks after taking one too many gulps. As usual, Asian girls can't drink for shits and a number of them in our group started collapsing one after the other. Before I realised it the whole crew was mostly knocked out and I was alone in the club, half drunk myself.

And that's when I proceeded to strike random conversations with people around the club and on the streets in my dysfunctional Scouse accent. Mother would be proud. It's Mother's Day. I think I'll stick to Heaven next time. Or find different party mates at the straight clubs because damn it I don't think I can afford prolonged parties with the rich and famous here. Dad would be livid, as should I.