By
Rob
Now,
here is the big question: Is West Street Live a pub? Let’s review
this…
Yes
it is a pub:
- It has a hanging sign outside.
- The bar itself looks a bit like it could be in a pub.
- It’s only small, serves alcohol, and clearly isn’t a club.
No,
of course it’s not a pub:
- It’s open until 3-4am.
- The place mostly consists of a dance floor.
- It has loud music (with the same twenty songs played every night).
- The bar is covered with laminated bits of paper displaying fairly ‘un-pub-like’ offers for drinks and shots.
- There are bouncers outside and occasionally you have to queue to get in.
- Plenty of places have hanging signs outside that clearly aren't pubs.
So,
weighing up the number of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ points, we were
forced to make the obvious decision. We concluded that it is
in fact a pub.
It
was on this night that me and Andy developed a sharp new strategy for
trying to romantically engage with women: The Booth
Trick.
How
does it work?
- Wait for the booth nearest the door in West Street Live to be empty.
- Sit in the booth, opposite one another, and shuffle right along to the wall.
- Simply bide your time until some footsore dancers come to sit beside you.
- Chat to them.
- Pull them.
Of
course, this is replete with problems. For starters, it’s a bit of
a lottery as to who sits down at the side of you. It might be
an attractive girl or, just as likely, an overweight middle-aged male
with a shaven head and tattoos who is so scary that you’re
genuinely afraid to ask him to move when you need to get up
and go to the loo.
For
us, it was a mixed result. At the side of me there were two young
women, while Andy's neighbour was a greying physics
professor (specialising in ‘dark matter’) from the University of
Sheffield.
The
lecturer was, to put it mildly, an absolute lunatic. He was a
man with an intellectual grasp on the mysteries of our universe, yet
who had no concept of what constituted normal social interaction.
He spoke at great length about how fantastic physics
is, and got very, very offended when we suggested that perhaps a lot
of people might find it a little boring. Thankfully, this bizarre
talk helped spark conversation between us and the girls who were also
in the booth, and who were also bemusedly witnessing the
man’s rant.
Eventually the
guy left, leaving us alone with the girls. Everything was going
great, to the point where they'd asked us where we wanted to go
afterwards. We were just starting to arrange a night out
together when everything then went awry.
One
of the girls stood up from her seat, on her way to get another drink.
She stopped about a foot away from our table, standing motionless for
a brief moment. Then, without warning, she vomited down herself,
covering her dress, and the floor around her, in the contents of her
stomach. Unsurprisingly, she was forcibly removed from the
establishment, with her friend fast on her heels. The Booth Trick,
you'll be shocked to learn, yielded no positive results that night.
We
were forced to endure a pint of Hobgoblin ale. If you've never had
this ale then my advice to you is this: don't.
Pub:
West Street Live (128 West Street, S1 4EQ)
Rating:
8/10
Pint:
Hobgoblin
