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Top five London clubbers

Nick Levine
Written by
Nick Levine
Culture writer
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Nathan James Page

1. The music lover

He’s only here because the DJ’s meant to be spinning ‘tribal, techno and progressive house’, but so far all he’s heard are three Justin Bieber songs and a dodgy dance version of Tracy Chapman’s ‘Fast Car’. He’ll make his sparkling water last an hour and a half so he can say he’s been ‘on the scene’, but really he can’t wait to get home and reorganise his enviable collection of white labels.

2. The dirty old man

He’s only here because Steam & Rye turfed him out for being ‘loud and obnoxious’, which was a bloody cheek after he spent £300 on fizz and fillet steak. He could probably suffer the thumping bloody pop music if only someone would serve him and that girl he was chatting up hadn’t said she went to school with his daughter. Down but not out, he leaves and asks the cabbie to take him to Stringfellows.

Nathan James Page

3. The hen nighter

She’s only here because they’ve done every bar on Old Compton Street already and nowhere else would accept an inflatable penis in the cloakroom. Dressing up as the Spice Girls seemed like a fun idea earlier in the day, but now she understands why Sophie insisted on being Posh. She looks amazing tearing up the dance floor in her LBD, but it’s harder to be a sophisticated London club queen when you’re wearing Sporty’s crop top and trackie bottoms.

4. The hipster

He’s only here because everyone at yoga said Dalston was ‘sooo over’ and mainstream clubbing is much more subversive now anyway. So far, he thinks he gets it – maybe in 2016 it is subversive to have a roped-off area where people from ‘Made in Essex’ can dance to Jason Derulo songs without being bothered? He’s even embracing the concept that wine can be served in a glass, not a jam jar, and accepting that the big-haired woman on the stripper pole isn’t actually a drag queen.

Nathan James Page

5. The student

He’s only here because his squad couldn’t get into The Roxy and this place was their only option. But to be honest, it doesn’t even seem like a proper club. Why is there a middle-aged man selling perfume in the toilets? Why did the barman smirk when he asked for a snakebite and black? And why won’t the DJ play ‘Summer of 69’? Duh, it’s ironic! By midnight he’s on the night bus home with a Big Mac and the number of some woman who smelled nice but was probably really old – like 26 or something.

By Nick Levine: you’ll find him in the club, bottle full of bub, judging absolutely everyone.

Illustrations: Nathan James Page

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