Hello. As you may know from every single comedian you follow on Twitter, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is coming up. Basically, a whole bunch of comedians in Edinburgh for a month doing hour long shows desperately trying to make you laugh. But in order to make you laugh, you kind of have to be there. There are lots of big names at the festival that you’ll have seen on TV/heard on the radio/stalked for long periods of time. But there are also comedians that you may not have heard of before; this doesn’t mean those comedians aren’t funny. It just means you’re not a big enough comedy fan. So I thought I’d put together a small list of comedians and shows I strongly recommend you see. You may have heard of these guys, you may not have, regardless I find them hysterical. And I will definitely be seeing their shows this year. Oh, and I don’t know what time these shows are on or where. Just google them you lazy git. I was nice enough to put the list together, how bout you get of your ass and do something. Huh?

Mark Nelson – Mark Nelson is in my top 5 comedians. He’s an extremely dark Scottish comedian and if you follow myself and him on twitter you’ll no doubt have come across one of the hundreds of times he has torn me a new one. He’s brilliant. Vitriolic and cutting but in the best possible way. If you like dark, smart comedy definitely go and see him.

Chris Martin – Chris is a good friend of mine and a total fucking babe. So for any girls or guys who want to go see someone who is very funny and a total piece of eye candy, this is your man. I don’t really know how to describe his style other than “really fucking funny”. He just kind of talks to you and before you know it you’re laughing very very hard and touching yourself. You dirty bastard. Don’t make eye contact with him while doing it though. You’ll put him off.

The Noise Next Door – I have only one problem with the Noise Next Door. And that’s that I struggle to decide what order to have sex with them in. KIDDING!!! I know exactly what order. They’re 5 guys who wear shirts and different coloured ties, so they’re referred to as white tie or red tie. Kind of like a gay, improv version of Resevoir Dogs. But hysterical. I saw there show 5 times last year because it was so good. And I’ll be seeing it plenty of times this year as well. The talent and skill they possess is genuinely impressive, there is nothing obscure or weird enough that you can throw at them that they won’t be able to make into a brilliant sketch.

Tom Stade – if you haven’t heard Tom Stades “Meat Van Guy” routine, you’re missing out on one of the greatest stand up bits of all time. It’s genius. Tom is a genius. He’s not exactly unknown, he’s been on McIntyres Roadshow, Live at the Apollo and Mock the Week. But he’s still incredible and you need to go see his show. I’ve been lucky enough to hang out with him a lot this year and see him trying all his new bits, and from an insider point of view, this years show is going to totally fucking rock.

Damien Crow – Damien Crow is an extraordinary character act. He’s a goth. And he hates you. And everyone else. And everything. I’ve seen him do short spots many times and it’s one of my favourite acts to watch and the fact that he’s doing a solo show is something that excites me. It’ll be very, VERY funny.

Benny Boot – Fuck, this guy makes me laugh. We met in Liverpool a couple of months ago and I watched him do his set every night and was just in awe. We then gigged at Rock Ness and I watched him twice more to the point where I was ruining all the jokes for my friends by going “Oh this one is great…. No wait this one is the best. No this one is the best. OH I FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE”.  He’s a weird, gag smith type comedian with an amazing delivery. And he dances like a mu-fucking pro.

Deanne Smith – I’m very upset that Deanne is a lesbian because I’m completely in love with her. She’s funny, she’s unique, she’s a total babe and she’s funny. Oh I said that twice did I? Well FUCK YOU. I DO WHAT I WANT.

Wittank – A sketch group with one of my favourite sketches of all time. These guys are the reason I randomly yell “RIM ME HARDY!!!” when I’m drunk and it makes me sound like I’m asking Bane for a sexual favour. VERY very funny.

Now. There are literally at least 50 other shows I’d love to recommend and this is just a small sampling of the shows I’m going to see this festival. So take my recommendations or don’t, but make sure you go and see lots this festival. You have the chance to see comedians before they “make it big”. You’ll have the chance to be that really douchey guy or girl that says “Oh, I knew him/her before she was totally famous and awesome.” And people will hate you.

Also, come see my show. http://www.edfringe.com/search#q=show_performer%3Adaniel%20sloss&fq=dates%3A%5B2012-08-01T06%3A00%3A00Z%20TO%202012-09-05T06%3A00%3A00Z%5D JUST FUCKING DO IT OK!

It’s time for another overly delayed nightclub review! YAY! HIGH FIVE! AWESOME. Warning: This review is a tad more ranty than I had intended. But you’ll see why.

Club: GHQ

Night: Wednesday. Because apparently that’s straight night. And it was definitely straight night because it was filled with cunts.

Reason for going out: I was bored, I’m an alcoholic and some of Allys mates wanted to go out and I take very little convincing.

Wingmen: Beebz and Ally. Both of who were truly awful that evening. Ally because he  was dragged out and wasn’t in the mood (and like I’ve said before, Ally is too lovely to ever be a good wingman. He‘s just too friendly and innocent and wants someone to watch shit telly with and talk to and snuggle. And if I ever have that, I want you to shoot me in the face with a horse. Relationships before 30 are pointless, selfish and moronic. But that‘s a different rant for a different time). And Beebz because he already had his tongue down a friend of a friends throat. The girl was lucky there aren’t any calories in saliva. Because if there was, Beebz would have had to have rolled her into bed and he could’ve slept inside of her like Han Solo does in that Star Wars movie.

Other peeps - Some of Allys workmates. And then the girl whose face Beebz clearly found utterly delicious. It was almost as if he’d taken some weird version of ecstasy which meant he chewed her face off. At points it was like he was going down on her… but on her face.

Pre-drinks: Just at the flat drinking what ever left over shit we had from house parties.

What were the bouncers like: Really intimidating. Which they need to be, obviously, but this may have been a tad much. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the way they I.D.ed people was to rip the head off of a 17 year old and then just compared that face to yours. If you look older than the severed head, COME ON IN! Party and have some fun. But if you look younger… Well, you just become the new comparison head for the rest of the night. Like a really really depraved, disgusting version of the Price is Right. “HIGHER! LOWER! OH GOD! PLEASE DON’T!”

 We almost weren’t allowed in, because we’re not students. I don’t understand this at nightclubs! So what if I’m not a student! I don’t have what students have! Optimism and debt. Let me the fuck in. 

And they did actually let me in, so I can’t really complain.

What were the girls like: I felt really sorry for the girls at straight night at GHQ. They have obviously gone to GHQ on the normal, fun-filled gay nights. Which means they have to wear their best clothes, because if a gay does not like what your wearing, he will  tell you. I know this because I know Craig Hill very well. And we were in Australia once and I didn’t own any shorts (because I live in Scotland). So I decided to just wear my swimming trunks everywhere. Apparently this is a faux pas, I had no idea. My dad always did it and he’s married! So clearly the ladies love it.

 But no. Craig invited me to lunch in Sydney and I answered my hotel door in my swimming trunks. He reacted as if George Michael and Elton John had suddenly decided to become straight and then both of them then decided to beat Madonna to death with Kylie Minogue. Honestly, no one has ever looked at me with such disgust in my entire life. So he immediately took me out and made me buy new shorts because I was apparently “making the gay baby Jesus cry”

 Anyway, the girls go ahead and put all this effort into making themselves look as good as they can for the usual company of gay men, only to have their efforts viewed by a bunch of straight, rugby playing, boat rowing, beer-chugging, parent-disappointing, posh popped-collar-on-a-pink shirt cunts. That’s a waste of time. Honestly, Helen Keller would show more appreciation for their dress sense. But I noticed girls, and you all looked lovely! But you obviously didn’t notice me, because I’m not like the guys that go to GHQ straight night, and I’m about to explain that type of guy.

What were the guys like: CUNTS CUNTS CUNTS CUNTS CUNTS. Jesus titty fucking Christ cunts. They were so cunty that I could search the world to find the person who was most offended by the word “cunt”, like Ghandi or something, bring him to GHQ straight night. And the whole time he’d be talking to me going “There is just no need for that sort of language young Daniel. It is unnecessary and hurtful. One must learn to express themselves in other ways than OH MY FUCKING WHO-EVER-I-BELIEVE-IN! WHY IS EVERY CUNT IN HERE WEARING JACK WILLS AND HOLLISTER? THANK GOD THERE AND NO GAYS IN TONIGHT. THEY WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WHAT A BUNCH OF ATROCIOUS CUNTS” and then he would kill himself. That bad.

 It made me embarrassed to be a man. Now before I go into this rant let me also just 

clarify some of the guys were really nice. I met at least 5 guys who I had a decent laugh with and we parted ways. But the rest of these shallow fucks can go and choke on their Abercrombie and Fitch jumpers stained with their own semen, tears and hair wax. 

 WHY DO THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME!?!?! WHY!?! Honestly, if these “Lads” were a race then I would happily become the worlds biggest racist. I’d be the new Hitler. And so would the rest of the world. They have the same hairstyle. You know that hairstyle that makes it look like it’s styled on Cameron Diaz in There’s something about Mary but the person who styled it was actually a monkey with diarrhoea and Parkinsons. 

They were the same shit “arty” tight fitting shirts to show off their pointlessly big arms. WHY ARE THEY THAT BIG!? Arms don’t need to be that big. It’s 2012, we don’t find wars with swords anymore! How bout you go work on something other than your triceps or biceps. Like your English, manners and respect you Neanderthal fuck. 

 In fact no… no. You’re not even Neanderthal, Neanderthals were a step forward in the evolution of man. They were necessary. You are not. You are a step backwards. If you had anything to do with our evolution we’d all be the same shade of shit, with hair that naturally sperms itself and arms so big we could never reach our tiny penises and therefore we couldn’t reproduce and we’d die out as a race but not before spending every penny we have on the same shit, ill-fitting, popped-collar shirt that makes me look like those spitting dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. But only if those dinosaurs had daddy issues and were also massive cunts.

Highlight of the night: Meeting some guys that were actually sound. They restored my faith in my gender and I would like to apologise to any girl that has ever had to deal with a “Lad”. And to any girl who has ever slept with a “Lad” may I just say, fuck you, you are dooming this earth.

Lowlight of the night: As I’ve mentioned before, I like being nice when I’m in nightclubs. Heck, I like being nice most of the time. It’s just better. People smile at me, I smile back, smiling releases happy endorphins in my brain or something and I have a pretty awesome day.

 So me and Beebz had just bought 3 drinks, one for each of us and a third for Ally who was at the loo. Me and Beebz were just standing around sheepishly as always, looking at the pretty ladies and then running away when ever an opportunity rose. We out our drinks on a table and started chatting. Just then a guy came up to us and asked “Do you know what time this club shuts.” Now, this is a stupid question. All nightclubs shut at 3, except during the Fringe when they shut at 5. Everybody knows this, what a moron. But I didn’t say that, because I’m nice. So we both replied “Yeh mate. It shuts at 3” and smiled. He smiled back “Cheers guys!” and we high fived and me and Beebz felt good because we had just helped out a fellow human being. We felt really good! Right until the point were we turned around to find out that he had only been talking to us so that his mate could steal our drinks… REALLY DUDE!?!?!? FUCKING REALLY?!?! Who does that!? Nobody. Nobody does that. I’ve done a poll of everyone in the world and nobody fucking does that. What’s worse, THEY WERE £1 DRINKS! A QUID! A FUCKING QUID! And you stole that from me? Really? I don’t mind, I honestly don’t. You clearly needed that drink more than I did. But if you’re that short of cash at least have the decency to do what every other decent person does and beg at the side of the street. OR MAYBE YOU COULD HAVE AFFORDED IT IF YOU HADN’T SPENT £100 ON A SHIRT! IT WAS A PLAIN WHITE SHIRT THAT COST £100!! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF GEORGE!?!?! ITS IN ASDA! BEFORE THE VEGETABLES!

Did you pull: NO! I was too annoyed and my wingmen were shit. Also I was clearly not the type of guy that the girls in that club go for.

Was it busy: Very. It was impossible to get served. I’m an honest guy and if I’m at the bar and someone has been there longer than me, I’ll point them out to get served. But I’m also a fairly weak person, I have no upper body strength (or lower) so I couldn’t elbow my way to the front like the other douche bags who clearly have no problem being that aggressive with other men because they play rugby and their uncles drink a lot.

What were the bar staff/door staff like: They were actually really nice. I had a good laugh with one of the gay bartenders. And two of the female ones always smiled. And that goes a long way.

What was the music like: I can’t remember. Probably good.

Would you go back: No. I’d probably go back on the gay nights though. The club itself is quite nice and the staff are sound. So I can imagine it’s a brilliant night when you’re just surrounded by gay men who want to bum you instead of fight you. That’d be a waaayyyy better night.

Rating out of 10: I’m really sorry but it’s gonna be a 3. And it’s a shame. The ladies were beautiful, the music was great, the doormen weren’t cunts, the staff were friendly and the drinks were £1. So that’s outstanding and I can see why it gets so busy. Unfortunately it gets busy with cunts.

So yeah. Sorry that review was a bit rantier than normal. But it got me angry. If you have any suggestions of where I should go next and on what night just tweet me @daniel_sloss. LOVE YOU

YAY! It’s time for another drunken club review. And guess what? Seriously, actually take a guess at what I’m going to say next…. FUCKING DO IT! JUST GUESS!… Say it out loud. SAY IT… Have you done it? WELL YOU GOT IT WRONG! HAHAHA! Thanks for trying. Loser.

But what I was actually going to say is that I technically owe you two club reviews. Because I’ve been so busy (lazy) working on my DVD show (playing FIFA and avoiding phone calls from my agent) I never got round to it (totally fucked it off).

One of the nights we went out was to HMV picture house. Now I know I’ve already been, but this was on the Saturday night. Propaganda. A lovely girl called Joanna got in touch and told us she could get us in total VIP so I was all like “YES TITTING PLEASE!” and it happened. 

And it was a great night from what I remember. A really good night. My 22 year old mate Big Ally finally got an I.D. which he hasn’t had for 4 years making him the most annoying person that ever existed. Honestly, I’d rather hear the crazy frog orgasm than listen to Big Ally try to justify not having an I.D. for the billionth time. “I just can’t afford it.” YOU BOUGHT A FIVE FOOT STUFFED BEAR FOR SIXTY QUID YOU PIECE OF SHIT AND YOU ONLY HAD SEX WITH IT ONCE. 

 I loved the night. We got walked in by Joanna, past the lovely bouncers who always laugh at my expense. They‘re big cuddly bouncers, who absolutely do not let you cuddle them. Trust me. I have tried. They really are sound bouncers, which is a great thing that a lot of nightclubs tend to over look. I imagine the interviews normally go along the lines of “What are your qualifications?”

“Well, I can punch a car in the face until it cries…”

“I see. Good. You are indeed built like a brick shit house. But just one more test, please take a look at this picture of an adorable kitten. How does this make you feel?”

“Can I punch it in it’s tiny kitten nipples?”

“YOU CERTAINLY CAN! You’re hired. Please feel free to make everyone feel like they’ve committed a crime!”

But at HMV they made sure the bouncers were capable of laughter and banter while still being able to beat you into a puddle.

The club was awesomely busy. Not rammed, but great atmosphere. And we were allowed backstage. Behind the DJ. IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME! I mean there was nothing there. Just me, Ally, Big Ally, Joanna and the DJ. But who gives a shit!? We were backstage. And we got to blow up really big balloons then hurl them down at the crowd, I felt like the gay version of Thor. I guess if you were gay, you would be THOR some of the time. GEDDIT?!?! DO YOU GEDDIT?!?!? I’m 90% sure that’s not homophobic.

And then the Jaeger bombs started flowing. I don’t know how many I did but it was A LOT. I remember Ally telling me the back of his brain felt warm. I remember getting really annoyed with a balloon for hitting me in the face. Not the person that did it. Just the fucking balloon. It was lucky I don’t hit girls. Piece of shit balloon. YOU’RE JUST A BALLOON! YOU’RE A CONDOM FOR ANYONE WHO SHOPS AT JACK WILLS!

 We also remember that Big Ally doesn’t drink as much or as often as we do. So we didn’t really slow down our pace of drinking to allow it. This meant that at half 1 I had to kick him into a cab with my house address and all the codes to my overly complex house alarm thing. I don’t know whether the fact that he managed to do it all without the police turning up is good for him as a drinker, or bad for me as a house owner. I mean if someone that drunk can easily bypass my shark-with-chainsaws-for-a-mouth security system, maybe I should actually put it in a big fish tank as opposed to just sitting on my couch, flopping around.

 The night was a really big blur. I keep getting little flashbacks, but all involve me and Ally looking around going “This is fucking awesome!” So yeah it was good. And before you ask, no we didn’t pull. Big Ally was too drunk and awful with women at the best of times. And unfortunately Little Ally isn’t that great a wingman. Not in a bad way. He’s just one of those genuinely nice, funny, kind-hearted, friendly sweet guys that girls go “OMG I totally wish I could find someone like that” while they flirt with a total cunt with a popped collar who’s so disgustingly muscled it looks like someone shaved a gorilla and stuffed it inside a condom. Because all women are liars. SOZ.

The other night we went to was on Wednesday at Mansion in Liquid Rooms. I REALLY loved the old Mansion across from the Omni Centre. I loved that club so much I had my 21st birthday there. I also met like 3 of the guys from Flawless (from Britains Got Talent) and they were like “Do you want to dance?” and I said no, because I can’t do a hundred gillion backflips. That was another club that had some of the nicest bouncers in town. Every time I went there they’d all laugh at how drunk I was and then even phone me the next day to make sure I was still alive. SOUND BOUNCERS. So I wanted to check out the new Mansion to see if it was good.

When we first arrived at the club I was greeted by a “little person” (I never know what to call them. No matter how nicely and politically correct you try to phrase it, someone always ends up grumpy). He handed me a party hat and then two girls in hot pants gave me a Jaeger bomb. I think this is how every nightclub should start. That’s just great. The little guy was even wearing a top hat. A FUCKING TOP HAT! He looked like a chess piece. It was awesome.

 Then we got downstairs and the club was totally dead. But to be fair it was 11:30. After a few drinks it started to get busy. I was out with Beebz and Kai. So it was one of those nights that we were definitely going out to try and pull. Which Kai and Beebz are great at. They’re two good looking (not Kai) funny (not Kai either) guys (not Kai) and they both can happily and freely walk up to a group of girls and start talking to them. Which I can’t do at all. I normally just sit around until a guy comes up to me and goes “Are you Daniel Sloss?” to which I giddily reply “YES!” and we end up chatting. I swear to God if I was gay I’d be swimming in dick. 

 Then at one point we found out that it has a huge smoking garden thing. And that place WAS AMAZING. I think we only spent half an hour in the actual club (where it looked like everyone was having a darn good time) but I loved it in the garden. Kai and Beebz had managed to start chatting to a group of girls while I was talking to a bunch of dudes. And after I finished conversing with the guys I joined my mates. There were heaters outside and tables and it wasn’t too loud. You could actually talk. AND WE GOT A SHISHA! I don’t know what a shisha technically is but it made me feel cool so we got one. And the night was pretty good.

Also, both HMV and Mansion both get big props from me for being very well priced. It’s nice to wake up in the morning and still find money in your wallet.

So yeah. Both clubs are good. HMV I have a lot of fun at every time I go and the drink prices are always cheap. Mansion hasn’t quite got into the swing of how fun the old club was, but it’s still a fucking great night.

Sorry this review isn’t as long or as funny as the other ones normally are. But I’m currently sat out in the sun on the only good day of the year and it’s proving difficult to actually work. SOZZLEBERRIES. I totes promise to make it up to you the next time I get really really drunk. Which let’s be honest, we all know is gonna be fairly soon.

LOVE YOU 

Two things. 1 sorry it’s taken me so long to write another blog, I’m a lazy bastard I know. What ever.

2. To the bitch that this concerns, you brought this on yourself. 

 Last night while chatting on Grimmy about velvet and clingfilm and what ever random stuff we talk about. I glimpsed over at the “text in” screen where people text in with their opinions and thoughts on the show. Normally the texts either consist of “OMG PLAY BETTER MUSIC” or “OMG THIS MUSIC IS AMAZING!” or “OMG WHO DA FUCK IS DANYUL SLOPPS?” but there was one text that stood out. Now, admittedly I didn’t get to read all of it, but the jist of this was this, “I met Daniel Sloss in a nightclub (THE HIVE) and he was a total asshole to me even though my friend gave him a nice review in the Fringe.”

 Now, I’m a grudge holding guy. I will hold grudges for years. To this day I hate every fucking bone in the body of a kid from my old High School. I can’t even remember what he did to annoy me, I just know I fucking hate him. Even just typing this out I’m getting so fucking angry and having to continuously delete horrific things I’ve typed about him and all the ways I dream about him dying with his shitty fucking hair and his laugh that sounds like someone beating a seal to death with a baby seal and HE CANT EVEN FUCKING SKATEBOARD COZ HES A CUNT AND I HATED YOU IN MATHS COZ YOU WERE SHIT AND YOU DREW A DICK ON MY JOTTER. YOUR BAND WAS SHIT AS WELL, EVEN THOUGH I NEVER HEARD YOU I JUST KNOW YOU WERE SHIT. YOU SAID YOU WISHED YOU WERE LIKE KURT COBAIN. ME TOO! I‘LL BUY THE FUCKING SHOTGUN. 

What you just read there, was extremely watered down.

 But surprisingly as I’ve grown older I’ve become a bit calmer, and although I still hold grudges, it takes more to annoy me. So I remember this incident in the nightclub. And I ranted to some friends about it after it happened, but then I left it. It left my mind. But since she decided to get it on Radio One, I’ll give you my side of the story. As I remember it.

So. This happened a while ago. I can’t really remember when. But we ended up going to Hive as was the norm when we got bored. I’m also just going to take a little side note here to talk about the Hive. Everyone gives it a hard time. Myself included. But honestly, it’s a fucking great club. Statistically, 9 times out of 10 when I go there I will have a great time. Which is a better ratio than a lot of other clubs. Hive is like having a wank. Sure it’s not as good as sex is, but when sex isn’t available just have a wank. And even then, sometimes a wank is better than sex with someone who’s really bad at it. Have you ever had a wank you didn’t actually enjoy? Unlikely. Only if someone saw you do it.

 But we’re in the Hive and obviously, I’m drunk. Of course I’m drunk, the booze is ridiculously cheap and I’m 21. That’s what I do. And that’s what I’m going to keep doing until there’s an intervention, and I’ll probably celebrate that by getting drunk. 

 Now I often get recognised in nightclubs and people ask “Does it bother you?” or “Is it annoying?” and if I’m being 100% honest. No. I fucking love it. Like too much. It gives me the biggest erection in the world when someone says “Are you Daniel Sloss?” it’s amazing. Unless that sentence is followed by “You know <insert girls name> don’t you?” and then I run away, because that’s probably going to end up badly. But most of the time I love it. Having people I’ve never met before tell me they enjoy what I do for a living? How could I not love that? Sure, some people are cunts and try to start fights with me but I know that’s because they have other issues. I’d hate comedians too if my uncle touched me.

So I’m walking around Hive with Ally (my best mate). When a girl points at me and smiles. BINGO. I love this part. I always like being nice as well. I like the fact that I get tweeted by people who have met me and been like “Dude, you were wasted, but you were a really nice guy.” it’s nice to be nice. So she says “Are you Daniel Sloss?” BONER

“Yeah I am.”

“OMFG!! That’s Daniel Sloss.” she says to her friends. Ally gets annoyed by the smug look on my face and rightfully fucks off. 

“You should totally buy me a drink?”… You what?

“…Sorry?”

“Yeah! It’s my birthday! Come buy me a drink!” Oh yeh, I’ll get right on that. I love buying drinks for people I’m not going to have sex with. It’s my favourite charity. I know this may sound harsh, but as a man I reserve my drink buying for girls I fancy and mates who aren’t as drunk as I am. Buying drinks for people you don’t want to have sex with is very rare as a man. If everyone in a nightclub who didn’t want to have sex with me bought me a drink, I’d be dead in 3 seconds.

“I’m okay thanks.” I replied. Trying to be polite as I possibly could. She was still a fan and I like being nice to you lot coz you’re so lovely to me.

“WHAT!?!? Why are you not buying me a drink?” Because even if I wanted to, I have so much sambucca in my system that The Slossage is dead for the night.

“Well… I’ve not even bought my friend a drink, and I don’t know you so…” I said, hoping the logic centre of her brain wasn’t as damaged as her social skills section was.

“BUT ITS MY BIRTHDAY!”

“But I’ve never met you before.”

“Well my name is…” What ever it was.

“Well, hi. My name is Daniel. Happy Birthday! How old are you?”

“20”

“Well, I hope you have a good birthday”

“Oh my God! So you’re actual not buying me a drink?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“But you’re rich” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

“I’m what?”

“You’re rich. You must be! You’re a comedian.” Holy Jesus shit balls, you clearly have no idea how comedy works.

“I’m sorry, but I’m definitely not rich.” I don’t think is something people should have to apologise for, but I was still trying to be nice.

“WHAT EVER. I bet my dad earns more money than you.” It was at this point I started to get pissed off. I love arguing, but not with fucking morons. I mean her dad probably has a lot more money than me. But not as much as he would have if he’d paid for a fucking condom 20 years and 9 months ago.

“I bet he probably does. Well done him. Well I’m going to leave now.”

“But my mate gave you a good review!” What? I started to get worried now. Maybe I’d had sex with her friend and she’d bigged me up on some weird F-list celebrity sex review website. ‘Sex with Daniel Sloss is like Pringles, not good for you but alright if your stoned. 4 stars’

“Huh?”

“Yeah my mate writes for <completely unimportant Fringe review thing> and she gave you 4 stars. So you should totally buy me a drink.” 

“Oh your friends a reviewer is she?”

“YEAH!” she said, all excited. Fully expecting me to purchase her a drink now that her ‘journalist’ friend had said nice things about me.

“Then you’re friend is a cunt.” This caught her off guard.

“What?”

“Your friend is a cunt.” Now. This may seem harsh, but that’s mainly because it was. But I don’t care. Ally had left, I was with these two cunts alone as they tried to justify me buying them a drink. And I was drunk and getting annoyed with them and the fact that this girl had mentioned reviews to me kind of set me off. I made my point.

 My point was this. Comedy is one of the most subjective things in the entire world. Not everyone is going to have the same sense of humour. That would never happen. I know there are people out there who find me very funny, but there are also people out there who think I’m dreadful. And neither of them are wrong. They are both opinions, and opinions can’t really be wrong. They are one persons idea of something and it’s what they think. It’s not right, it’s not wrong. It’s an opinion. So, in my opinion, for one person to go out and watch a comedy show and then tell a bunch of other people that they thought it was good or bad is one of the most self-involved things you can do. To think your opinion is the definitive opinion and that everyone should listen to you? Fuck off.

It’s the point I keep trying to make with this nightclub review. This is one man/boys opinion. Just me. And I’ll be honest with you, if my opinions on nightclubs are anything like my other opinions, they’re wrong. Don’t listen to me. I’m a fucking idiot. And if you disagree with me. GOOD! Well done for formulating your own opinion, you win at life.

 I’ve been to many of my friends shows and read 2 and 3 star reviews. Even though every single person in the audience was laughing their asses off. The same thing has happened to me. Now I know this sounds like a bitter comedian ranting about reviewers because he’s had shit reviews. And it’s kind of true. I’ve had bad reviews. But at the same time I’ve had good reviews. But my opinion on both are the same. I couldn’t give the faintest of fucks. Honestly, even if you gave me a cocktail of laxative and Viagra I would still struggle to give a shit or a fuck. I only care about my audience. My fans. The lovely people that have waited, paid and looked forward to come to see me. The ones that have sat in my show and listened and laughed and cheered and stayed for hugs at the end. Not some student who got told to come to my show for free.

I don’t pay attention to the bad or good reviews because they used to affect me. I’d read a 2 star review of myself and I’d feel like quitting comedy. I would then walk out to a room full of paying people who laughed at all my jokes and loved me and I’d think “What fucking idiots! Don’t they know I’m not funny?” 

 Now I don’t bother with reading reviews at all. I’m not saying some reviews aren’t important, that’d be fucking stupid and naïve of me to think. Of course reviews can help with ticket sales and boost confidence. And a lot of the time the reviews come from people who do honestly know their stuff. Who have been around comedy for years and love it. They can see the potential in people and the flaws in others. Who aren’t saying a comedian is bad because they want an A in Journalism for being edgy, but because they genuinely want to see that comedian do better. And by giving him or her a critique, that comedian then knows what to improve on. Reviews can be an invaluable thing for up and coming comics. It let’s us know where we’re going wrong and where they think we should be heading. But other reviewers, especially some during the festival, lose sight of what reviews should actually be about and just enjoy knowing that their opinion can really make or break some newer and younger comics spirit. I know, because I have been that comedian reading those reviews and feeling like a prick.

And the fact that this girl and her friend thought that the review was so important and invaluable to me. That I should be so thankful that this student managed to wake up from a hangover, bash out 150 words onto a screen and put some sort of galactic rating on it. That really fucked me off.

I’ve just had a phone call from my agent telling me not to name where the review is from. So I won’t. Not because I’m worried about upsetting them, like I said I couldn’t give a shit what they think, as long as my audience is laughing what else do I need to do? But because she came up with the valid point that it was not the reviewing company that was a drunken, desperate moron begging for attention in a nightclub. She probably doesn’t even work for them anymore.

So that was my point. That’s why I called her friend a cunt. Now, to be honest with you it probably didn’t come out like that when I said it to her. My brain doesn’t have that Paperclip dude popping up going “So, you want to assassinate the character of a drunken cunt you me. But at the same time becoherent, educated and civil? Have you tried kicking her in the shin?” So what I probably said was “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT REVIEW I DON’T EVEN LIKE WHAT THE SHIT IS WHERE MY HAT GONE BITCH?”

 I wasn’t actually that drunk. I did make my point that her friend was horrible for thinking that her opinion was more important than that of the general public and that although I did appreciate the 4 star review, that it meant nothing to anyone else ever and never will. But she was a drunken bitch and she started yelling at me because apparently you’re not allowed to call girls cunts even if they are reading the dictionary definition of it and acting it out to perfection. So I told her I was going to leave, her friend said she was going to give me a shit review next time and I wandered off. I got drunk with Ally, we had a laugh about the situation.

 But over the course of that night every time I walked past this girl she gave me the middle finger. I did nothing in return, I ignored her and went on having fun. I say she gave me the finger, she might have been introducing me to her boyfriend.

So, there you have it. Feel free to formulate your own opinion on whether or not you think I was an asshole or not. If you think I am, I’m sorry I’ll be nicer to you if I ever meet you. If you think I wasn’t an asshole THANKS MAN! I KNOW RIGHT!?! She was a total bitch! But as long as you’ve developed your own opinion on the matter, I can’t possibly call you wrong.

As some of you may or may not have heard, Cabaret Voltaire is closing down. Proving that clearly my influence over the nightclub world has become far too much. 3 weeks after I start moaning about it in my world-wide-loved blog and it shuts down. Coincidence? Probably… 

 But, if it is by any of my doing I’d just like to point out again, that my opinions mean less than nothing. They are like a vegetarians opinions, statistically all wrong. Please do not look at this blog as anything other than a way for me to entertain my tens of fans with stories about how drunk I get and how pathetic I am when I do so. And if anyone shuts down The Hive I will lose my shit. I will go on a killing spree. I need that place like Jordan needs Living TV. I will chain myself to the front of those doors and they’ll have to cut through me if they ever plan to shut it down.

 I’d also like to point out that I’m not ecstatic that Cab Vol shut down. I had loads of mates that loved that club. I just didn’t. I hated the bouncers. And it was always the bouncers I hated. The staff there seemed perfectly nice and I know that everyone else that worked there didn‘t idolise Josef Fritzl. The bouncers just didn’t like me because unfortunately I never wore a training bra, I had standards and I wasn’t in Primary 5. I will definitely be going to the new refurbished club to see what it’s like and give my overly-influential opinion on the matter. 

 But enough of me talking about random shit. Let’s go onto another one of my amazingly shit and ill informed club reviews. (Important note: If I give a club a shit review it doesn’t mean the club is shit. It just means I probably didn’t pull or I stubbed my toe or I accidentally came in at the wrong bit to “All the small things” by Blink 182 and everyone laughed at me. Reviewers opinions mean less than nothing. Always remember that)

Club: Silk

Night: Thursday

Reason for going out: A lovely girl called Charmaine suggested I go along and check it out coz apparently it was quite a good night and cheap as shit. She also said we could get queue jump and free entry. Which we did. Which was awesome sauce.

Wingman: Beebz

Other peeps: Ally and Ducan

Pre-drinks: We just stayed at my flat and drank a bit and played loads of FIFA which I obviously won coz I am God of FIFA. Honestly, if I go Chelsea I do not get beaten. When I play FIFA against Ally and people like that it just seems unfair, it’s like kicking a retarded puppy. I’m just that amazing.

Also I started drinking rum and orange juice. Not because I’m questioning my sexuality, trust me I <3 BOOBZ, but because apparently it’s nice and I’m watching my figure. Which does in fact make me sound like a 16 year old girl. It’s a shame Cab Vol is shutting down, I could’ve got in now.

What were the bouncers like: Surprisingly trusting. Most bouncers when you go to the front and go “I think I may… possibly… maybe. Have queue jump? Please don’t punch me in the face. I’m not sure. I just thought maybe… possibly… slightly… *cry loudly*” they’d kick you to the back of the line for lying and being a pussy. But these guys went in, checked and confirmed. And they both shook our hands. Fucking gentlemen. (Note: they didn’t shake our hands while fucking gentlemen. That’d be weird. They weren’t just ploughing away at some blokes and then decided me and my friends should congratulate them on such a feat. I just mean that they were really nice)

Was there a guy in the toilet handing out smelly stuff: No. The more clubs I go to the less common I realise this is. I thought it was everywhere. Apparently not though. The toilets were nice enough. Clean and it had plenty of toilets so you weren’t having that awkward Wild West stand off with other blokes. You know that moment where your hand is on your zip and their hand is on theirs, you’re just waiting for someone to start shaking so you can jump in as soon as they sheathe. You have to time it perfectly. If you go in too soon you’re pissing on a guy that has done nothing wrong. But if you go in too late your standing behind a bunch of guys weeing with your cock in your hand. Either way, you look weird. 

What were the girls like: Stunning. Honestly. I think I fell in love like a billion times. None of them were pretentious or snotty, but they all put effort in to looking as good as possible. And it worked. We didn’t talk to any because we were so intimidated. We just kind of stared and smiled like we were looking at animals in a zoo. But instead of monkeys throwing poo at each other, they were monkeys I wanted to have sex with. But they weren’t monkeys. I don’t think this analogy is working. I don’t want to have sex with monkeys. Me and my mates used to joke about getting a reach around from a spider monkey, but that’s only because we liked saying it. Just say “I’d love a reach around from a spider monkey” right now, and I can guarantee you’ll smile after saying it. It’s like disgusting bestiality poetry.

 I digress. The girls at Silk were gorgeous.

What were the guys like: it’s scientific fact that the better looking girls are at night club. The douchier the guys are. This was the case for some of the Silk men. One guy was wearing a scarf indoors. One guy was wearing sunglasses indoors and one guy had his collar popped so high he probably couldn’t hear me call him a “massive douche bag” from across the room under my breath so he couldn’t hear me.

 Also, there was one cunt who just kept throwing ice at me. I have no idea who he was nor did I care, much like his father. It wasn’t even like a lot of ice or regularly thrown. I mean if you want to piss me off, at least be consistent. I’m more offended by his lack of commitment than the act itself. Also, who throws ice? At least punch me in the face you fucking pussy. 

Who ever it was, I hope you get AIDs and then all your friends aren’t friends with you coz they’re all like “Eewww you have AIDs. Most people would stick by their friends with AIDs, but we won’t, cause we’re friends with you so logically that makes us complete and utter spaff rags too.” and then as you walk lonely to the hospital you get hit by a bit of ice, and you turn around and you search. There is no sign of anyone, just this piece of future-water (the scientific name for ice) on the road and you suddenly remember back to when you threw that piece of ice at me because you’re a cunt. And just as you begin to register regret, a dragon comes down from the sky and punches you in the dick and you die because the dragons claws were magic and they gave your sperm super strength and hunger and then they eat your entire body from the testicles out.

 Either that or go jump off a building. 

 Not all the guys were dicks though. I met one guy called Roy who demanded to be in my blog. And I said I’d see what I could do. Then ten minutes later he came back and he’d split his tongue in half. It was disgusting. But he kept showing me it and it was seriously sick. And the only way I could get him to leave was by promising to put him in this blog. So this is for you Roy, go to the fucking hospital, that shit is not nice. He could’ve French kissed two girls at the same time.

Highlight of the night: £1 drinks. That shit is insane. I don’t even want to go on about it that much just in case loads of people find out and then I can’t get back to the bar. Also, there was a girl who we dubbed “Bat-shit-crazy-but-also-fit” girl. She was mental. You could see it in her eyes that she was completely psychotic. But she was also quite fit. And every time she got a little bit more crazy, she got a little bit more hot and we could never decide if we fancied her or not. It was like the crazy-hot scale in How I Met Your Mother. I reckon had any of us decided to sleep with her that she would’ve been the best sex we ever had, but the next morning I’d wake up with an blood soaked ice-pack on my crotch and my penis on the end of her finger with stuck on googly eyes. Then she’d just spend the next 16 minutes acting out Forrest Gump with my penis playing all of the characters. Nice tits though.

Lowlight of the night: Seeing Roys split tongue was fairly gross. Also, douche bag ice thrower. But neither thing was that much of a mood kill so I’d say nothing really.

Did you pull: Nope. Me and Beebz didn’t even try. We were too distracted by the cheap drinks, a mate I hadn’t seen in ages and Beebz was being stalked by some random guy which was hilarious and worrying. But we had no A-game that night. I was far too intimidated by the pretty ladies.

Was it busy: Yeah. I’d say so. Not as busy at it should’ve been for £1 Giblets (my drink of choice. Gin, blackcurrant and lemonade. Girly as fuck but it tastes delicious. Thank me later)

What were the bar staff like: Really nice. Always smiling and up for a laugh. Also, I have to give incredible Kudos to ninja-glass collector dude. Honestly, this guy was a fucking machine. For half the night we never saw him, we just noticed our empty glasses had disappeared. Where? Who knows? Who took them? We never knew. Eventually we started paying attention and, honestly, 5 seconds after you put an empty drink down on the table this sneaky bastard comes out of nowhere and takes it away to be cleaned. He was amazing. I admire your work sir. 

What was the music like: It was cheesy as fuck but I liked it. Also the dance floor was really weird. It had tables along the side which looked like it could be used for a Lidl version of Britains Got Talent. I expected the tables to get full and just be filled with people making fun of everyone on the dance floor. But it wasn’t. Nobody judged anyone. Which was handy because nobody could dance. I liked the fact that nobody gave a shit or judged people. It was nice.

Would you go back: Oh fuck yes. In a second. As long as I could blag queue jump again. Next time though I’ll be sure to bring my testicles with me and maybe attempt to talk to one of those girls. I doubt it, but we’ll see.

Rating out of 10: I’m giving it a 9. I don’t care what anyone said. I wasn’t that drunk and I was fairly tired and I still had a good night. And I honestly can’t reiterate how insanely excellent £1 drinks are. My God. Silk was lucky I had self control that night otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been allowed back.

Well, that’s the end of another club review. I don’t know when the next one will be because I’m actually trying to stay off the booze for a week and then I’m off to London. I won’t be going out in London because I don’t have that many friends there and I don’t shit diamonds. Sorry. But none the less send me your recommendations of clubs to go to and what night. And remember, flattery gets you everywhere.

It’s time for another Shitty Club Review as they seem to be getting a decent response. But before I begin I would also like to re-iterate that these are not serious club reviews. They’re my opinions of clubs. And if you’ve ever met me, you will know that most of my opinions are wrong. So don’t get upset if I insult a club you love. It just means you’re an idiot and probably posh.

 On the other side of things, if you do like my reviews and you happen to work in a club/bar let me know where. And give me free shit and VIP and strippers and what ever goes on in that VIP room I’m never allowed in because I don’t have tits or more money than dick.

 Anyway, this review was from last Thursday at HMV Picturehouse because Kai decided to come up and visit. It was fun. Also because for the first time ever I actually managed to get guestlist, and I mean like real guestlist. Not shitty, there’s the guest list queue, it’s longer than the normal queue. But the real, skip everyone and feel cool guestlist. LOVED IT.

Club -HMV Picturehouse

Night - Thursday

Reason for going out - Kai was up visiting and we all wanted to get shit faced. Which we did. So much so that we managed to get interesting photos involving a sleeping Kai and my giant hairy ass.

Wingmen - At one point it was Ally. As we decided to have a competition to see who was better with the ladies. Beebz (DAMMIT BEEBZ) and Kai went away and started talking to a group of girls. Meanwhile me and Ally went on the bouncy castle. So I think we know who the real winner is…

Pre-drinks - Just at my flat. We sat around drinking lots and playing FIFA. Which me and Beebz one. For my my FIFA skills are a lot like my skills with the ladies. I spend a lot of time wondering which buttons to go for and dribbling.

What were the bouncers like - Sound. A good laugh. Not just stare at I.D. then stare into soul. Beebz just had his haircut short (which would suggest we’d stop calling him Beebz. NOPE) and was going on about how it made him look so much older. And he was the only one that got I.D.ed and we all lolled as the bouncer tussled his hair. Good fun.

Was there a guy in the toilet with smelly stuff: No there was not. I’m beginning to think that this is a thing that only happens in clubs where people who stink are likely to turn up. Like Hive. I love the optimism all the other clubs. “Ahh, so you’re coming to George Street. You must own a shower! We trust you.”

But the toilets were nice enough. They were toilets. There’s not really much more you can say than that. They were clean…

What were the girls like: They were alright. There were no overly posh My-father-invented-golf-and-my-second-name-is-The-Third type girls. Which is always a bonus. Everyone says those types of girls are good because “they know how to ride”. I imagine they do, what with owning a trillion jillion horses and riding on their daddies success.

 But the girls in this club were nice and friendly enough… as I’m told by Kai. I was too pussy to talk to any.

What were the guys like: same again. A decent bunch. If there were any “LAAADDDDZZZ” they were quiet and kept to themselves. There was one group of really geeky guys out. It was quite clearly there first time outside. Or in a club. They were fascinated to see tits that they couldn’t pause or save. It was quite adorable. They all had their best shirts on, clearly ironed by their mothers, BUT THEY WERE HAVING FUN! And that’s the main thing.

Me and Ally spent a lot of time laughing at how socially awkward they were, as we stood around sipping pink drinks and avoiding eye contact with girls, while Beebz and Kai did a full lap of the dance floor…

Highlight of the night: Beebz did something so legendary and heroic we all high-fived him. But I can’t tell you that story because he does not come across well. AT ALL. But we all lolled. The other highlight was Kai passing out. Earlier that day he had shown us a picture of him doing mean things to a passed out mate of his and complaining about how pissed off he get. So when he passed out Ally and I naturally started doing the same thing to him. Yes, we took photos. No, you can’t see them. 

Lowlight of the night: Someone almost died. Yup. That’s normally a dampener on most days. Ally and I were wandering around awkwardly when we noticed a circle form on the dance floor. You know what this means… “FIGHT!!!” We screamed and got our camera phones out. And as the crowd turned round to reveal that a girl had passed out, Ally and I felt a wee bit like cunts.

 She was properly passed out. To the point where even we found it uncomfortable to make jokes. I know this sounds bad. But we make jokes at EVERYTHING. There is no such thing as too soon. When Ally got dumped by his girlfriend. I started texting him pictures of them together. We’re cunts. We’ll joke about anything.

 At first we thought she’d just fallen over. Or that she was just having a lie down as drunk people tend to do. This is when we, and all the other guys in the club made the same joke. “DIBS!” HA! Hilarious. Until you realise that it was probably a lot more serious than that.

 We weren’t the only ones not knowing what to do. The bouncers and staff were on it like a flash, ambulance was there in minutes and they’d said “Everyone, give her some space.” But what most people on the dance floor took that to mean was “Everyone, give her some space… Like… a metre. And then keep dancing like an idiot.” Honestly, people dancing like morons around a passed out body. It looked like they were summoning something.

 But eventually the ambulance people got her up. And she was fine. Drunk as fuck. But fine. They strapped her into a chair and wheeled her out of the club to the tip or something.

 We all felt a little bit less guilty but still decided it was best not to make any jokes. Even this was a bit too soon. Then, literally 15 seconds after she was out the door, as everyone stood around awkwardly staring at each other, the DJ came over the mic and went “ALRIGHT THEN… LETS GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”…

 As if everyone in this club were looking at this passed out girl going “What a selfish little bitch. Doesn’t she know I can’t boogie near a body? Cow!”

Did you pull: Kai pulled. Beebz pulled. Ally pulled… Me? On leaving the nightclub, alone. I bumped into an Irish guy who recognised me. We had a bit of banter and I mentioned that I was going home to get more drunk and play FIFA. And he joined me. We played 3 games. All of which I won and then he left. So again, who was the real winner tonight? Yeah, all my mates pulled… But… There is no chance, while playing FIFA, that I got crabs. So I win.

What was the music like: At the start of the night people really didn’t seem to know the words to songs. Bloodhound gang came on and everyone was like “OH MY GOD! CLAIRES PASSED OUT! SOMEBODY PHONE THE AMBULANCE. OH EM GEE!! CLAIRE ARE YOU OK!? SHIT SHIT SHIT!” and if you google it, none of those words are in that song. Idiots.

Was it busy: Fairly. A good amount of people in. Not so much that it’s rammed packed and not so little that a near death experience could ruin the atmosphere. All in all a good number.

What were the bar staff like: They were good. They did their jobs. It was fairly busy at the bar so I didn’t really get chatting.

Would you go back: Definitely. It was cheap as hell. Honestly, if you’re short on cash GO TO HMV. It’s good banter, good music, there’s a fucking bouncy castle and a twister board and it is cheap as shit. Vodka and mixer is £1.20. That is dangerously brilliant!

Rating: 7/10 I’ll give it. Could’ve been a tiny bit busier with less medical attention needed.

Right. That’s another review done. We’re going back out on Thursday so if you could suggest any place to go that’d be great. 

As a follow up I’ll just briefly mention I returned to Opal Lounge on Saturday. The first George Street club I’ve been to on a Sat and it wasn’t as awful as I expected. It wasn’t cheap, but it was still a good night. And the hot barmaid was there, so that’s a win.

HELLO! And welcome to another one of Dannys Shit Club reviews. Today you are in for a massive treat! Why? BECAUSE IVE ONLY GONE AND REVIEWED TWO PISSING NIGHT CLUBS YOU LUCKY COCK GOBBLER! One for Lulus and one for Opal. So with out any further swearing. Here it goes! Cunt (I lied)

Lulus - SHIT

WELL! Hope you enjoyed that one! Now onto Opal Lounge. What? You don’t think that was good enough? Much my opinion of Lulus. Allow me to explain.

We went to Lulus on Tuesday and I disliked it so much I willingly got dragged to Hive, a club I said I’d never go back to. Now I know this suggests that I have no will power. This is not true, this is just a testament to how shit Lulus can be. Going from Lulus to Hive is like having Jessica Alba naked in your bed, only for you to turn around a be like, “Nah, I’ve got to go. I promised I’d rim Susan Boyle.”

But the reason I hated Lulus is because I have never seen such a posh bunch of self-loving bastards in my entire life. Sooo posh. If there is one thing I hate more than LAAADDDDS!!! It’s posh LAAADDDSSS. The ones that don’t play rugby but they do rowing and polo. I went to the bathroom and I saw one guy snorting a line of caviar off the back of a swan. 

 We got there and were in the queue and one of the bouncers (who, by the way, weren’t posh or evil. Just standard bouncers) checked our I.D.s against a piece of paper. I can only assume this was to check whether I owned enough land to be allowed entry. Either that or I had to have some special decree from the Queen giving me safe entry (giggity)

Don’t get me wrong. The girls were stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. But I stood no chance with any of them because I don’t own a yacht. The lads were all bastards with their popped collars, checked shirts and unjustified egos. While queuing at the bar, one guy was doing the whole “subtly barge in” thing. But he wasn’t leading with his elbows like any tactical smart man would. He was leading with his cock. It was like a tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny fucking small tiny tiny tiny posh tiny penis crowbar. Which he’d just put in between gaps and would pry people apart. He was a gap rapist. After 5 minutes of being pricked to death by a prick I decided to give him a fiver and say “Cheers for the effort, but I prefer my lap dances off of women.” I didn’t leave quickly as I knew it would take him a good while to work out whether he was offended or not.

In most situations I would’ve been worried that he’d kick my ass. But in this club if someone wants to fight you they throw their gauntlet on the floor, grab a musket and say “MEET ME AT THE CASTLE BY DUSK PEASANT! WE SHALL END THIS LIKE TRUE MEN. COME FARQUAD! LETS RIDE!” before mounting a horse and trotting off. I say horse, it could’ve been one of the girls.

Even at the bar it was pretentious as fuck. I find bar work quite impressive sometimes. Like when they’re making cocktails and they throw and spin the bottles around. I don’t know why they do this. You’re making it take longer for me to get my drink. I asked for a cocktail not a cocktease. Yes it’s impressive but it’s entirely unnecessary for a Vodka Coke. It’s like getting Heston Blumenthal to make you beans on toast without having sex with it first. 

Then I decided to cross their “dance floor”. I say that because the dance floor was about as wide as the gene pool. It was tiny. Lulus is where DNA goes to die. The floor was lit up as well so it looked like that shit dancing game you get in arcades. There was no guy in the toilet to make you smell nice. This is because everyone in Lulus actually owns their own butler.

This review makes me sound bitter. And that’s because I am. The entire reason I didn’t enjoy Lulus is because I didn’t fit in. It wasn’t my crowd. I don’t go fox hunting and I have a healthy relationship with my parents. I was never going to enjoy it. I’m sure some people do. But these people are cunts. I would totally go back to Lulus. The girls are GORGEOUS. So I’d go back on the hopes that I could maybe charm some and if my charm failed I’d make sure I had a salt lick HA! ITS ANOTHER HORSE JOKE.

So if you like pissing your money down the drain while being judged and your favourite drink has 3 different types of extinct animal in it, go to Lulus and have the time of your life drinking Unicorn tears. But, if you’re a normal, decent human being who realises there is more to life than Jack Wills and pointing at poor people, go somewhere else.

Like Opal Lounge.

Club: Opal Lounge

Night: Wednesday

Reason for going out: Kai, my support act and one of my best friends, was up visiting. And he managed to get us VIP apparently. Which we never got, dirty lying Geordie prick.

Wingman: Kai and Ally.

Pre-drinks: I was gigging at The Stand again so we grabbed a few there and then went to Queens Arms again coz I LOVE IT THERE. We all sat down and laughed at how stupid Kais accent is. “AAHH ARE Y’ALREET DYA KNEE CHERYL COLE N DEC BIKER GROVE!”

What were the bouncers like?: Decent. Just normal guys doing their normal jobs while being the size of houses. But they weren’t even that big. Which is worse. If a bouncer is massive then you know that’s all he has. He’s just intimidating and huge and that’s why he’s there. But a small bouncer? Man, that crafty little fucker is probably a ninja. How else would he get the job?

Was there a guy in the toilet handing out smelly stuff: No, there was not. But there was a man in the toilet spewing all night. Honestly, every time I went to the toilet he was there just being a Chunder puss. It was as if he’d just seen Kristen Stewart attempt a smile from her cold dead face.

What were the girls like: Fit and nice. Like, they actually had personalities. Not all of them. Obviously some would only nosh you off if you had your bank statement tattooed under your belly button, but that’s the kind of girl that you are occasionally going to get on George Street. But for every posh as fuck girl there, there was a girl who was a student at Napier, so it all worked itself out in the end there. Note: If you go to Napier and are offended by that, CONGRATULATIONS! You can read! You’re more qualified than the teachers.

What were the guys like: They had the appearance of LADDDZ but none of the repressed memories or issues. There was one big bastard who seemed intent on pissing everyone off but I saw one kick-ass girl stamp on his foot with her high heels and he quickly retreated back into his own body like a fat sexless turtle.

Highlight of the night: I found out one of my favourite bartenders from a Fringe venue works there. He’s awesome. He looks like Torres but I imagine he scores more. If he wasn’t so sound I’d hate him for being such a sexy bastard. But he explained that the head guy at Opal Lounge reads my reviews and enjoyed them so that was a massive metaphorical blowjob. And in this review I am blowing my loving load all over his chin. I don’t really know what that simile means, but it sounds filthy. Just remember. Flattery gets you everywhere.

Lowlight of the night: Kai tried to piss on me.

Did you pull: No. None of us did. We chatted to girls but none of us managed to do more than smile awkwardly and control our drool. ONE DAY WE SHALL PULL!!… One day… But no. Kai is an awful wingman and Ally is too much of a nice guy to pull at nightclubs I think. 

Was it busy: At 11:30 (Yes, we always arrive early. We like having seats…) it was totally dead. The bar staff outnumbered the people. But by 1 is was fairly busy. Good atmosphere but no accidental lap dances/rapings.

What were the bar staff like: SOUND. Proper sound. Like I said, I knew the Torres guy already and then had banter with each other one. All up for a laugh. Also we all fell in love with one of them. She was well pretty and we all giggled when she looked at us. We are fucking studs.

Would you go back: Yeh I probably would. Apparently it’s busier other nights but I enjoyed it as it was. There was no downside apart from Kai being horrendously drunk and trying to piss on me in the toilets. He’s so classy. He has a tendency to do it. One time, during the Fringe, he took a piss in the middle of the road and a police car pulled up and they asked where he was from, and he said Newcastle. They then asked “Is it common for people to piss in the streets in Newcastle.” which was followed by a 30 second silence before Kai said… “You’ve never been have you.”  He’s such a disgusting cock.

Rating: I’m gonna give this an 8/10. I had a good night and it was fairly alright price was. The banter was good. The lads weren’t cunts. The girls were pretty and didn’t have asses so tight that they shit diamonds. Also, and it was clean. God I’ve missed clean nightclubs. It’s just such a novelty. To be able to drop a ten pound note and not have to chisel it off with a chisel or posh twats cheekbones. 

So yeah. All in all a good night. The drunkness continues tonight as we head out to HMV Picturehouse. It has a bouncy castle. So already I love it.

Hope you enjoyed the blog again. As long as you keep liking them, I’ll keep writing them. Club suggestions should be sent to me on twitter @DanielSloss or at Ally @RiotSalad

It’s time for another highly biased, poorly thought out and stupid Club Review. Before I begin I would like to point out that I do know I have very bad grammar in this. It’s shocking. My mum is an author and constantly reminds me of this. I then remind her that she writes childrens books I have the win. But still.

 I would also like to point out I care as much about my grammar as Josef Fritzl cares about his kids. This isn’t because I’m uneducated or even lazy, I just like to type how I talk. If you read this, there’s a strong chance you’ll be reading it with my voice in your head. I like that, that’s me. If you were to read Harry Potter in JK Rowlings voice all you’d hear is “Mmm money money money. Oh no, I’ve ran out of ideas, quick hand me Lord of the Rings.”

 If my grammar does offend you. I am sorry. Genuinely. I know it’s something I should work better towards, but I’m unofficially reviewing nightclubs for fuck sake. You might as well go tell a prostitute that her accounts are bad and she’s shit at holding hands. Also, just be greatful that I’m not out there misspelling all the shit like a lot of other people from my generation do. There are several excuses for bad grammar. None for bad spelling. (I know, no doubt, in this blog I’m going to misspell something and people are going to jump in and be like “LOLMG! YOU SPEELED CHEESE WRONG! LOLOLOL!” and I’d just like to point out, you’re not the first one to notice. You won’t be the last one to notice. You’re not special. Get back to work.

ANYHOO. Sozzleberries that this blog took so long to come out since I actually went to Cav on Sunday. But as I’ve said I’m incredibly lazy and I was hungover as balls on Monday and yesterday I was travelling down to London. I’m a busy (not really) man (not really).

Club: Cav 

Night: Sunday

Reason for going out: Beebz was through and I felt I needed to write another blog coz I’m actually having fun with it.

Wingman: Beebz… God damn Beebz. 

Other group members: Sadly it was just Beebz and I. Out on the town. Alone. Out of our depth. Quite drunk and trying to convince ourselves that we had “A GAME!” which we do not. At one point I also bumped into one of my ex-girlfriends brother. THAT WAS FUN. “Hey dude! I haven’t seen you since I used to have sex with your sister on your bed when you were out.” KIDDING! We never had sex. Hence why she has been dubbed “The sexless ex” But I didn’t tell him that. But he did buy us some Jaegerbombs so it was all good.

Pre-drinks: I was gigging at The Stand again trying new material so Beebz popped down to that and we had a couple. Then we went to this awesome pub called the Queens Arms. I don’t know why it’s called the Queens arms. It doesn’t smell, it doesn’t have wings and it had no part in the killing of Diana.* It’s a great pub and every time I go in there I fall in love with about 10 different girls. Honestly, the bartenders and the regulars are gorgeous. Beebz and I just sat there drinking wine (yes, wine) and talking about how great we were with women and not going up and talking to any women because “I don’t need to prove anything!” We spent most of the time sitting on our iPhones tweeting each other coz we’re so cool and down with the kids.

What were the bouncers like: Bouncers. The dictionary definition of Bouncers. They weren’t cunts, but they weren’t your best mate. They just stood there, intimidating as hell. Huge men. Just looking at your I.D. then back at your eyes, peering into your very soul for any signs of guilt and then they give you that gentle but petrifying nod letting you know that you’re allowed in. It’s like when a Roman Emperor would give the thumbs down (coz that meant you survived, I’ve watched Q.I. too bitch) to let you know you were allowed to live. Except in this case, instead of being spared the mauling by several lions, you were being allowed to be groomed by several cougars.

 But yeh. Just bouncers. The kind that you put on your whole “Totally sober” act.

“All right pal. I.D. please.”

“Why certainly sir! Here you go. I do believe everything is in order. By gosh it certainly is quite chilly tonight. I do not know how you fine young gentlemen do it! Probably all the muscles to keep you warm. Ey? I bet you are a certain hit with the ladies of this fine establishment. WHAT HO!”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Well me and my comrade here have been known to be quite partial to a bit of liquor now and again. I believe it was William Shakespeare that once said…”

“Just go in.”

“Thank fuck for that, I’m steaming. Nearly had to whap out my “talk like a twat” app. Or the Piers Morgan sound board I believe it’s called.” WHAT! DANIEL OH NO YOU DIDN’T!? You’re right. I didn’t.

Was there a weird guy in the toilet with smelly stuff: yes and no. There was a weird guy in the toilet. But he didn’t work there. And I didn’t have time to smell him. He just screamed “ARE YOU A COMEDIAN!?” at me. And I was thinking, “oh, here we go again. I’ve been recognised. How embarrassing. I’m probably going to have to pose for pictures. Well lets do it out in the club so everyone can see. Do you need me to sign anything? I have my own sharpie, which has also been my undoing a lot of times after I’ve been drinking” and then another guy walked in and the weird guy shouted “Are you an astronaut?” at him and I felt a lot less special.

 I would also like to point out I go to the loo a lot on nights out. I have a tiny bladder. It’s worrying. When I’ve been drinking I have more pees than Gareth Gates doing a Penguin biscuits advert.

What were the girls like: Really nice. I met and spoke to a few and none of them spat in my face or threw drinks at me or Beebz. They all seemed fairly good banter. I met one girl whose name was the same as a superhero and I was all like “Whaaattttt?” and she was like “Yeeehhhh” and you had to be there…

What were the guys like: I only met one or two and they were nice. But there were definitely LAADDZZZ in there. I saw many a popped collar, very much the “me and my uncle have special hugs” badge of the LAADDZZ. But none seemed to be looking for a fight or trying to Alpha male the whole situation so that was fine. Maybe they were, maybe it’s just the fact that me and Beebz can both pass for girls. That would also explain why the girls didn’t tell us to fuck off immediately. I think I need a haircut.

Highlight of the night: I met this one guy. In the toilets (it’s not that kind of story). And he was quite good looking (seriously, it’s not that kind of story) and he offered to buy me a drink (FUCK OFF OK!?! It’s not that kind of story. He recognised me and wanted to buy me a drink. It happens… sometimes… once). But I swear to God I have never met a man with game like this. By God he was smooth with the ladies. Probably because he didn’t use phrases like “Smooth with the ladies” or “game”. We were at the bar and he just leaned over and started talking to a girl. Just like that. With his mouth. To her ears. And she listened and laughed. They’d never met before and he just spoke to her. At one point he made me do the same thing to another girl and I completely fucked up. I’m pretty sure my opening line was “I met a super hero girl today. Do you have a nice name?” and she did, she had a name which was Russian - “Gedda fugout myface dickwad” beautiful… She wasn’t smart though. I kept following her around trying to give her my number and she kept typing in “999” she must’ve been drunk. Idiot.

Lowlight of the night: I’m not sure how many souls have starved to death by now after being stuck to the floor, unable to leave the nightclub. I swear to God if gravity ever fucks up, let’s all go to Cav. We’ll be fine. The floors were stickier than Spidermans hand after a tissueless wank.

Did you pull: Kind of. Beebz pulled a girl. And I got a girls number. But that’s because she said she was a cleaner and I really need a cleaner. And then the next morning she text me saying she couldn’t clean my house anymore… I am such a fucking stud.

What was the music like: Loud and cheesy. Exactly what I like. And everyone on the dance floor seemed to be having a good time as I stood there watching Beebz play tonsil hockey with a girl. Fucking Beebz… 

Was it busy: Very. But in a good way. Not rammed but the perfect amount of people.

What were the bar staff like: nice. But one of them refused to smile. I like making people who serve me smile. But that only works if they can hear me and are not completely dead inside. But that was just one girl. I’m not being cruel, but someone better have died for her to be that miserable.

Would you go back: Yeah I would. Apparently it’s cheap as fuck on a Friday so I may try that night. But the Sunday was good banter. Except when Beebz accidentally bought two little bottles of Magners which cost, I shit you not, £4.20 each. WHAT!?! Cider should only cost that much if it’s been made with the apples from the garden of Eden and the bottle opener was Jessica Albas belly button.

Rating: I’m gonna go out and say 7/10. I reckon I would’ve enjoyed it more if I hadn’t been so horrifically drunk. Which I’m not going to do again… for a while… we’ll see… SHUT UP!

*As you can tell, I know nothing of the whole Diana thing. I just thought I’d make a controversial gag, coz I’m such a close to the bone comedian. I’m a loose cannon. Nobody tells this guy what to do. Loose cannon comedian. Oh yeh…

But yeh. There ya have it. My third review. If you have enjoyed it please do let me know. If you didn’t enjoy it, keep it to yourself and write means things about me in your diary. And if you noticed any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes. Get a life.

Also suggestions for other nightclubs to review always appreciated. :D

WHAT IS UP MY BITCHES?! Yesterday I did not post my review of Bongo club. There is a very simple reason for this. It’s because I didn’t write it. That simple. Don’t bother getting the strangely dreamy Benedict Cumberbatch to help solve this mystery with the aid of Bilbo Baggins. I was being lazy.

 Because the night at said club proved to involve horrific amounts of alcohol which led me to spend most of the next crying into a pillow, watching chick flicks and saying “What happened last night?” with the same fear and regret as a girl who just lost her virginity.

 But yes, it’s time for the second review because the first one was quite well received. (THAT’S WHAT YOUR MUM SAID LAST NIGHT) 

Club: Bongo Club

Reason for going out: Bored out my tits and had a friend I hadn’t seen in months round. But mainly, because I’m an alcoholic. She wanted to go out, so did two other friends. AND IM A BRILLIANT HOST.

Wingman: I did not have a wingman as I was out with my female friend, Jess, who I hadn’t seen in ages so I decided not to spend my night in vain looking for a girl. Though at one point me and AIDs (my other friend, I’ll explain the nickname later) tried to search for girls. But we were, as usual, unsuccessful. We have as much skill when it comes to women as Kerry Katona does when it comes to parenting.

Other group members: AIDs (His name is Adam, as his brother used to call him Adz, so I started calling him AIDs because I can’t remember how I got him, but he’s very hard to get rid of. And it’s funny to make jokes about him. Note: Adam does not have AIDs. Just syphilis). Lil Ally, my best friend. We also bumped into some other mates while out, but over all a small group of friends he either can’t talk to women, or, is a woman.

Pre-drinks: We went to my local. The Murrayfield bar. Which is an awesome little old mans pub where the football is on and the bar staff know us. They know us because we had a Christmas get together there which ended up with us stealing all the crackers off the Christmas tree, inventing a drink called “Hulk Spunk” and Beebz split his hand open because he decided to punch a Christmas tree bauble. Beebz is a fucking moron.

 We also went to Banshees Labyrinth, which is a gothy as it sounds. I’m pretty sure that’s where they make lesbians. I love it. It’s always quiet with tables available, decent priced drinks and you can actually have a conversation about football or TV or the best way to sacrifice a virgin while trying to summon Glorbarg, the God of shit screamo music. (Note: I have no idea what Goths talk about. Nor do I care. I care as much about what Goths have to say as much as Goths care about soap)

 Rush was also visited because it’s cheap as shit and I quite like it. It’s filled with nice students and they don’t have coat hangers but fortunately it’s the second stickiest place in the world (the first is Hive) so you can just throw your jackets at the wall and it’ll keep it in place. Sure when you take it off it smells like Bacardi breezer, tears and shame, but then again so do most of the girls in there. KIDDING (note: not actually kidding)

Night of the week: Wednesday

What were the bouncers like: THE GREATEST PEOPLE I HAVE EVER MET. Honestly, I’ve never met sounder bouncers. They were fucking heroes. One of them who I dubbed “Pete the awesome bouncer”, wasn’t even dressed like a bouncer. He was dressed like a nerdy 1970s pimp and he was like “Do you have I.D.?” and I said “Yes.” and he said “I believe you.” and that was it. Fucking hero. Then the other bouncer, who I dubbed “Donald the awesome bouncer” (can you see the theme?) was a total fucking legend as well. When we went in at like 11. It was pretty dead. So we went out and asked if it would get busier and he went “Yeh man, probably in about an hour, if I were you I’d fuck off to Rush and get shitfaced then come back here when it’s busy, we’ll still let you in” LEGEND. Then when I told him I thought he was awesome we all had a laugh about the bouncers at Cabaret Voltaire and how they were massive peedos and everyone hates them because they are cold, dead inside fucks. HAHAHAHA I HATE CAB VOL. (Note: If any Cabaret Voltaire bouncers read this (between injecting steroids into their eyes and masturbating over training bras) and somehow manage to get their carers to read out the crazy squiggly lines on this page, and somehow they understand the fact that I’m insulting them and get offended. GOOD! YOU OFFEND ME! If you are what “Real men” are, I’m going to tuck my penis between my legs, shave my arse and cry over Marley and Me.

But yeah. I would give Bongo club 10/10 for the bouncers alone. 

Was there a weird guy in the toilet giving out smelly stuff: No. The toilet had no attendant to make me smell nice. But to be fair I was absolutely mauled so there might’ve been. Who knows? That spray could’ve been from a small bottle of Calvin Klein or it could’ve been the spray back from my own urine. I was too drunk to care.

What were the girls like: I honestly can’t seem to put into words how drunk I was. Put it this way, I was so drunk that I might’ve have actually enjoyed a Tim Burton film. KIDDING! There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me enjoy a film by that Emo-Spawning-Johnny-Depp-Rimming-My-Wife-Has-A-Massive-Forehead-But-Was-Quite-Good-In-Fight-Club-But-Im-Still-A-Twat bellend. Except Big Fish, that was actually fairly decent.

 But from what I remember there were females there. But since I wasn’t out with a wingman I wasn’t really paying attention. 

What were the guys like: Fairly sound. Met a few who were up for a laugh. There were no LAAADDDS, which is always good. No popped collars. No pink shirts. Just decent guys getting drunk. The whole club itself was actually quite quiet, but I’m assured that’s because of the fact that the Unis haven’t gone back. So this means I will have to return to Bongo Club again. Which I am not complaining about at all. I had a fucking great night.

Highlight of the night: The bouncers. Honestly. It’s such a small thing (they weren’t, they were fucking huge, but lovely. It was like someone had shaved a bear and then given it ecstasy) but the bouncers are the first impression of a nightclub, the first hurdle. And the fact that these lot had me in stitches laughing made my whole night much more enjoyable, I spent more money and stayed longer. 

Lowlight of the night: When we were at Rush we order something called an Atomic Bomb, which in my opinion was worse than the actual atomic bomb. Honestly, I know a lot of people died in Hiroshima, but my tummy really hurt afterwards… so… you know. It was a tequila shot with red bull. It was awful. It tasted like going down on an angry Mexican prostitute. But it did get us very drunk. So drunk in fact that me and AIDs couldn’t work out a simple pub quiz machine. After 5 minutes and £4 in change we realised that we’d just been dropping the coins down the back of the machine.

Did you pull: Again… no. I was far too drunk and I had no wingman. I also had no desire to pull because of the whole “old friend” being there and stuff. I say that as if I had a wingman I would’ve been a total stud. I wouldn’t have. I am a total dweeb.

What was the music like: I think it was drum and bass. I’m not 100% sure. I don’t really pay attention because I rarely dance in clubs. I’m shit at dancing. I know I can’t dance. So I don’t do it. By that logic I shouldn’t have sex, but still. So I spent most the night standing in a group of friends that were dancing, just awkwardly drinking VK Apple… Did I say VK Apple? I meant a total manly drink… Like uh… Beer. Yeah, I had beer in a cup shaped like a football and then I drank it off of a model while talking about building fences. COZ IM A TOTAL FUCKING MAN.

Was it busy: Not massively. But the unis aren’t back and apparently it’s quite busy then. But at the start of the night it was just 4 girls sitting round awkwardly wondering if they should leave. It looked like my sexual history.

Would you go back: Definitely. I want to see what it’s like when it’s busy. And I fucking love the bouncers there.

Overall rating: 7/10. Despite the fact that it was a bit quiet and not that big. I had a fucking great night.

Again, let me know if you enjoyed this blog by tweeting me @daniel_sloss and let me know if you want more and I should keep going. I’m only doing this for you. Also suggest other clubs for me to review, and what night they are best to go on.

CHEERS CUNTS

If you know me you know I don’t blog much. Mainly because I’m a lazy bastard. But I decided to combine two of my New Years resolutions together. Write more blogs and go on more different nights out, instead of doing what me and my mates normally do which is realise we’ve achieved fuck all during the day and then one of us would inevitably utter the phrase which would let us know that the night was about to get weird. “Let’s go to Hive”

 It’s a horrible phrase. But during the Fringe it quickly turned into a catchphrase. Without fail someone would always say it. Admittedly it was normally me, but still. It was the answer to every single question. 

“Where you going?” 

“Hive?”

“Hows your mum?”

“At Hive”

“What time is it?”

“Half past Hive.”

I don’t even know how the obsession started. I think it was the first nightclub we’d all ever been to. It was like losing our virginity again. We were drunk and filled with regret, but it would always have a special place in our heart. I think it’s mainly because it’s one of the only nightclubs in Edinburgh that LAAADDDSSSS go to. I fucking hate LAADDDDSSSS. 

 But after one night, just before the New Year, when I thought I’d introduce my mates to “Hive til Five” and the bouncers didn’t let me in, I got quite annoyed and vowed never to go back. Now this isn’t in a diva-esque stubborn way. But if you’ve ever met me at a nightclub you’ll know I’m always really respectful to the bouncers. All the time. I understand they have a tough as hell job and I never give them shit. Unless they’re from Cabaret Voltaire, in which case they’re a bunch of peadophiles who can go lick a tramps dick for all I care. Fuck Cab Vol. Fuck it in it’s shitty dungeon of emo hole that it is.

 But I felt so betrayed by this club that I’d given so much money and vomit to that I vowed never to return, and instead venture out to the other nightclubs of Edinburgh. I would leave the Hive and never again smell the smell of vomiting, regret and fingering. I would never again step on the floor which was like a fly trap to broken dreams.

I’ll admit I was absolutely shit-faced when I arrived at the club, but in my defence. IT WAS FUCKING 3 IN THE MORNING! AND IT WAS A NIGHTCLUB!! What the fuck did this bouncer think had happened. That I’d just woken up from a gentle slumber, rolled over, looked at my alarm clock blinking “2:30” and I just thought, “Well! Since I can’t sleep, I might as well go piss my money and self respect down the drain.” If he wasn’t so big I swear to God I may have said this out loud. But I’m a big girl and I don’t do fighting, mainly coz I don’t have a tiny dick (Note: If you get into fights. Your penis is miniscule. This is scientific fact, go shake your tic tac someone else you fucking caveman)

 Anyway, long story short I’m going to try and visit every nightclub in Edinburgh over the course of the year and give you my extremely biased, and hopefully funny, opinion of it. I would also like to point out that my opinion should mean less than nothing to you. My opinions on nightclubs are like a Christians opinion on anything - wrong.

 My reviews will just be down to how me and my friends enjoyed the night out as a whole. This is a combination of the crowd, music, bouncers, alcohol prices, alcohol choice and whether or not any of us had the balls to talk to any girls. It’s a bullshit review. Don’t take it seriously.

 So without further ado allow me to go on to my first ever “Extremely biased and shit review of a nightclub”

Nightclub: Whynot

Reason for going: WHYNOT?!?! HAHAHAHAHA FUCKING HYSTERICAL DANIEL

Wingman: Beebz (note: Beebz is normally my wingman. We call him Beebz because he looks like Justin Bieber with a penis. Beebz is a terrible wingman. By God he’s awful. Mind you so am I. Neither of us have any chat so we just end up getting drunk and making up excuses like: “I didn’t even want to pull!” or “I’m too tired!” or “Danny, I can’t lie anymore. This shallow chasing after random women has led me to the conclusion that I love men. In particular, I love you. So much. For ever and always. Please Danny, can we be together.” Oh Beebz, you so crazy…

Other group members: My mates

Pre-drinks venue: The Stand. Because I was on doing new material and it’s a great club and place to grab pre-drinks and a laugh.

Night of the week: Monday.

What were the bouncers like: Outside they were nice enough. They were all wearing hats. Then they asked me to remove my hat. Which I did, coz I’m a total fucking gentlemen (Which I’ll prove later on) But inside they were huge. I can only really remember one of them coz he was an absolute behemoth of a man. I swear to God I thought I’d have to use my PokeFlute to get past him (If you don’t get that reference you’re either a)too old b)too young c)shit)

Also he had a laser pen which he just randomly pointed at people on the dance floor. Which made it look like everyone dancing was being targeted by a sniper who kept having a change of heart. But he seemed nice, not an angry bouncer. But one that could quite literally rip you in half by blinking at you (note the incorrect use of the word ‘literally’)

What were the bar staff like: Good banter. Up for a laugh and a chat and helpful.

Was there a man in the toilet with man spray, and what was he like: Yes and weird. First time I went in he sprayed me right after I’d done peeing. I didn’t even ask. I was almost offended. As if I’d walked in and he’d been like “Jesus Christ you smell like Hive”. He kept getting too involved when I washed my hands. He squirted the soap on, he turned the tap on. IM A GROWN MAN(ish) I CAN WASH MY OWN HANDS! I half expected him to literally blow my hands dry (note the correct use of the word ‘literally’) I didn’t give him money the first time, I never do. I have a bladder the size of a thimble, I piss a lot and I always pay at the end of the night. But every time I went in after not paying him, he acted as if I was dead. Honestly, it’s like he was trying to make me jealous. He kept washing other peoples hands, brushing their hair and teeth for them, shaking their nobs to get the last few drops off. And what did I get? Nothing. Just the look of disdain and hatred I normally see after I have sex with someone.

What were the girls like: Fairly fit. Mind you my opinion my be skewed after all these months of going to Hive where you need actual Doctors to do scientific research to work out the gender of most the people inside. But yeh, they seemed nice. None of them were bitchy or up themselves as a lot of George Street club girls tend to be. Except for one girl who we shall call “Total fucking bitch” for reasons that I will make clear further on. Hint: she was a total fucking bitch. If you didn’t get that from her nickname, I imagine you watch Snakes on a Plane and go “I wonder what it’s about.”

What were the guys like: There were no LAADDDSSS which I could see which is always good. Most were just standard guys out on a night out getting as drunk as possible and hitting on girls. My normal tactic, minus the latter. But nobody started on us. No one was trying to be an alpha-male and “accidentally” barging into other guys.

Highlight of the night: I can’t really think of one. It wasn’t a bad night, but nothing particularly amazing happened. We got VIP passes. And then quickly realised so did everyone else in the club. I was more disappointed than Harry Potter on fathers day, “Oh no! It’s fathers day! And I totally forgot to buy a present! I can’t believe… oh wait…”

Lowlight of the night: TOTAL FUCKING BITCH. I consider myself quite the gentleman. I open doors for women and let them go first. I’ll help them if they look like they need help. And I’ll let them go on top occasionally. (told you) And I totally respect the fact that women can get to the front of bars faster than guys because they have lovely breasts and smiles and if you’ve got it flaunt it. That’s fine ladies. You’ve earned it ever since that lesbian threw herself under the kings horse because she wanted a new hoover… or something.

 But this TOTAL FUCKING BITCH properly elbowed her way past everyone, including me, to the front of the queue and got served before me after elbowing my ribs and physically pulling another guy back from the bar to get in. She then gloated at me “That’s how this bitch does it!” to which I replied “You got the bitch part right.” This may seem a tad harsh, but let me assure you… it get’s worse and she deserved it. She looked shocked and said “What?” because her grasp on the English language seemed to be as good as her grasp on how to apply make-up. I don‘t think it says “All at fucking once with a paintball gun” on the box. I could’ve made a snow angel in her face had I had any desire to touch her, which I didn’t, nor would anyone ever. I imagine she didn’t have that many spots underneath the make-up, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they spelled out “cunt” in braille.

 But then she made one of those offended faces people tend to make when they confuse me for someone who gives a shit and she turned to the guy behind her and whispered something. I got quite nervous as, like I said, I don’t fight. But I had Beebz behind me and I hoped this guys maths skills were greater than his girlfriends social skills and wouldn’t bother. He barged in beside me and looked me up and down. I did a little poo in my pants. I don’t like getting punched. Especially when I don’t deserve it. If he was going to punch me I wanted at least another 5 minutes pointing out ever flaw in her being. I looked back at Beebz. He was drinking a VK apple and gawping at other ladies. Always got my back…

 This guy looked me up and down. I braced my face. And he then said, in the campest voice I have ever heard, “Ehhhh did you actuALLLLL just call my BEE EFF a bitch, bitch?” I was so relieved… He was gay.

“OH THANK FUCK YOU’RE GAY!” was not the response he was expecting, and his confused state allowed me to quickly run away just in case, he could’ve probably still kicked my ass.

Did you pull: AHHAHAHAHAHAHA. No… Beebz and I spoke to two girls at one point and we offered to buy them a drink. And they accepted, “YES we’re in!” our eyes screamed. “We want to be in too!” cried our penises. But I made a mistake at the bar. I thought I’d bought them a Rum and Coke and a Vodka and Coke. But I realised, just after I’d paid, that the bartender had accidentally given them invisibility potions, coz they were no where to be seen. What a cockblocking bastard….

What was the music like: Loud enough to hear, and quiet enough to still be able to talk. Good. Also a decent variation.

Was it busy: Busy enough to have atmosphere. Not too busy that you accidentally lap dance everyone.

Would you go back: Probably

Overall rating: After talking to everyone in our group, we decided to give WhyNot a very good 6/10. And on a Monday night, that’s good.

If you enjoyed this review let me know. If you didn’t, don’t bother letting me know, I’ll work it out. And if you have any suggestions for the next nightclub I should review just tweet me @daniel_sloss NOTE: NOT HIVE.