Lan Kwai Fong

Lan Kwai Fong was almost deserted tonight, with only a few hundred drunken revellers. This may be because California Tower is being renovated, which means Lux (home of bizarre looking transvestites) and all the other bars in it are no longer there.

Or perhaps being drunk has just gone out of fashion. Some hope.


There was a man wearing a lycra one-piece, the sort of thing you'd put on to compete in a triathlon, and a time-trial bicycle helmet (back-to-front), standing drunk outside Al's Diner. His friends had stolen a bag of ice from outside one of the other clubs and were stuffing it down his shorts. This is probably a cruel thing to do: if skin-tight lycra leaves nothing to the imagination, you don't want to imagine what frozen water does when applied to a man's nether regions.

Even an unimaginative one.

Eventually the ice deliveryman went over to remonstrate, and this lead to the group being kicked out of Al's Diner (no mean feat, as they were already standing outside it), so they blundered over to the Bodega where we had been watching, and proceeded to spray lager other one another, and anyone else in the bar.

Ah, drunken frolics. Perhaps I'm just getting old, but I don't find myself wanting to frequent bars when the height of entertainment is banging the base of your beer bottle on your friend's, to make all his beer fizz up and spray over the table. Is there something wrong with me?

Went to a soiree in a bar called Soiree, had a ginger martini, called it a night. Goodnight!