David, David, David and I all met in Bar Code last night set for our trip to King of the Boots at “the smallest club in London”, Asylum. Beneath the newsagent we found it and it was heaving. How tight was it? It was tighter than a camel’s arse in a sandstorm. How close was it? It was closer than two Norfolk family members on a sofa. How hot was it? I was sweating like a fat girl on a hot day. We were sweating like a bunch of paedophiles in a playground (that’s enough metaphors now, I think!)
The music was great however. All the usual suspects (including my favourite - the Freelance Hellraiser) were spinning their tunes. In my opinion Bootleg DJs are a bit like chefs. They take raw ingredients and put them to together in interesting ways. They cook up a storm, right? A little bit of the R&B, a little bit of Grange Hill and sprinkle lightly with Eminem. Works for me anyway.