In order to write about the gay scene, you have to actually go out on it sometimes. At QX we’re constantly documenting the week’s events through professional photo reviews, but one drunken evening Dylan and I decided “why not cut out the middle man?” We could document our own night, we slurred to each other, with our phones and pads and iPogs and ManDroids or whatever.
So we decided we would do a bar crawl and where better to crawl than the Clapham high street? Boasting three of London’s favourite gay bars in one handy little strip, we surmised we’d spend roughly an hour at each, taking in the sights and drinks of each venue, Then we’d take some gorgey pics and use them to annotate our write up.
Surprisingly enough, this did not go quite as we pictured.
THE BEGINNING
7pm – We bully our graphic designer into purchasing Stellas for us to have a bit of a pre-drink in the soon-to-be-demolished Denmark Street office.
7:30pm – We board the tube to Clapham from Soho. We take the first of many ill-advised selfies and cast appalled looks at woman sat opposite us for wearing Crocs. A large gentleman boards at Stockwell, bringing with him a delightfully pungent aroma of three-days-on-mephedrone de toilette.
7:50pm – We arrive at Clapham North. Upon exiting the station we are almost run over by a Corsa, mainly due our own stupidity/inebriation. We head for our first stop:
THE BRIDGE
DOM TOP: The Bridge is lovely. It’s like a really slick yet homey bunker you could happily wait out the nuclear apocalypse in with a gin & tonic. There’s backgammon and numerous other board games on the bar. There are candles. There are sophisticated gay couples having intimate chats at rustic wooden tables. Then we arrived, announcing to anyone who would listen that we are from QX “mag-uh-zeeeen”. This, shockingly, appeared to hold no weight with anybody. We bowled up to the aforementioned sophisticated gay couple’s table and slurred “ZENNNYWUN SIDDING IN THIS CHAYR?” before plonking ourselves down next to them. I ordered Dylan to purchase the first round while I took more misjudged photos of myself against the Bridge’s lush décor.
“This is the place babes! This…is THE PLACE!”
DYLAN: QX unanimously agreed that Bridge Bar is one of our new faves! And by “unanimously agreed”, I mean we leant towards each other swilling ice around half-empty glasses of vodka coke and screeched “This is the place babes! This…is THE PLACE!”
DOM TOP: I marched to the bar and demanded to speak to the manager. Turned out the person I was demanding this from was actually the owner, Flo. Flo is fucking fab. We had a chat outside about Clapham, the Bridge, the gay scene and various men-related dramas. We asked Flo for a photo for this article, which she politely declined as she is an international woman of mystery and must remain incognito. Based on the images on my camera roll, she made a wise choice. Very wise, Flo.
DYLAN: I took a photo of some lovely jam jars they had on the bar and Instagrammed a picture of them with the hashtags #jam, #spread and #lol. At the time I thought it was hilarious. It was not hilarious. It was just some jam jars. Then, as we were leaving, I made eyes at a hot hairy Clapham gay and he did NOT make eyes back. The cheek of it! I had a cigarette in protest. That’ll show him.
DOM TOP: Flo gave us free drinks. We were a mess by the time we left the first venue.
KAZBAR
DOM TOP: There was loads of CRUMPET in Kazbar. Clapham Crumps. I was buttering my own seat.
DYLAN: Yes, CLAPHAM CRUMP! There was so much! It was nice seeing some fresh crump too, rather than the ones we always see. We also both realised that Kazbar is a favoured haunt of Freemasons’ disco diva Katherine Ellis, and that Dom Top once got stuck behind her there on the stairs. Hilarity ensued.
DOM TOP: That was during Clapham street party 2012. I went upstairs to the loo and when I came back the Queen of Ibiza 2005 was doing a six-song set on the staircase and nobody could get past. We all just had to hunker down and wait it out.
“There was loads of CRUMPET in Kazbar. Clapham Crumps. I was buttering my own seat.”
DYLAN: I insisted that their disco ball was “fucking amazing” and Dom Top insisted (rightly), that it was “a disco ball.” On that score, at least, one of us was correct. We took a photo of two girls sitting across from us who we didn’t know, for no discernable reason. If we were straight it would’ve been really creepy. It was probably quite creepy anyway.
DOM TOP: I tweeted said picture to the QX Twitter with the caption “HANGING WITH THESE FAB BITCHES”. I have no idea who they were and we did not actually speak to them at all. Sad. We left after we realised we were having difficulty actually forming sentences and should probably get to our next stop before one of us puked.
TWO BREWERS
DOM TOP: It was really busy in Two Brewers. In fact, all three of the Clapham venues we went to were buzzing. None of this “the London gay scene is dead” rubbish. The homos were out in droves! Couldn’t even get a seat at the Brewers. I had to stand, swaying like a drunken ear of corn, while I tried to suggestively make eye contact with one of the Kings Cross Steelers. I think he thought I had a lazy eye.
DYLAN: The first thing I did when we got into Two Brewers was go behind a big sparkly curtain and have an instant HIV test. Pint of cider and black in one hand, fingerprick test with the other! Multitasking! That doesn’t happen very often does it. A truly unique experience. Thanks Two Brewers. Around this point Dom Top engaged in some spectacularly clumsy flirting with someone who follows QX on Twitter. “Dom Top’s just a nickname babes. Got any bizniz?”
None of this “the London gay scene is dead” rubbish. The homos were out in droves!
DOM TOP: There’s a photo of me sitting glumly next to a huge glittery Buddha statue. From what I recall I thought it looked really moody and edgy. It just looks like I’m throwing a strop. Maybe I was bitter that none of my flirting tactics had worked. I went for an angry dance in the club bar after that, sloshing my cider all over my shoes.
It was around that time we tweeted our fave BGT finalist La Voix, who was performing in the main bar, demanding to know where she was. By the time she arrived and actually took the stage, we were too drunk to realise and busy having an argument about hair dye in the toilet. Sure she was fab though. Love you, La Voix!
KAZBAR (again)
DOM TOP: I’m not sure what happened at this point. We were supposed to get an Uber home but apparently I demanded that we have “one last drink” at Kazbar. We purchased two pints of Strongbow Dark Berries. I attempted to “strawpedo” mine out of the glass with limited success, before resigning to supping at it like a milkshake. Dylan looked fairly appalled.
DYLAN: I didn’t know what “strawpedo” was, so ordered an Uber on my phone with one eye closed. We got in, screamed “EAST” and then played Me & My Girls to the poor long-suffering driver, complete with dance moves and singing along to every single word.
THE AFTERMATH
DOM TOP: I got asked to leave the Uber and (I assume) had to walk the rest of the way home. I woke up on my sofa next to a Turkish gentleman. Apparently I’d stopped by a kebab shop and decided to select him from behind the counter instead of a doner. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
DYLAN: I dragged myself to Sainsbury’s and bought twenty mini sausage rolls, which I ate with some onion and garlic dip stolen from my housemate’s section of the fridge. I then vomited to the Sex & The City soundtrack. The end.
RATING OUT OF TEN: TWELVE.
