Remember when Hoxton Bar & Grill was a solid night out? Well it's not anymore. Not on a Saturday at least.
Myself and three friends went this week, see. We (me, Egg Face, Walter and The Duke) queued up for an age, noticing that the bouncers were timing when to let in the next dozen people - "It's only been 9 minutes," says Meat For Brains 2 to Steroid Tits 1 as he counts down that crucial last 60 seconds. But the real joke was inside, at Sausage Fest 2009!
I don't care that there were few girls there (I'm taken), but what irked was the fact that dancing to the fucking awful DJ, still mixing Fat Man Scoop with 'Jump Around' (SERIOUSLY!), were the most retched lasses I've seen since putting up with shitholes in Southend. The lads we're all agro-seekers from nearby office jobs, chasing skirt and STIs from the present rancid girls. Intimidating, vile and soundtracked by the worst music this side of DJ Luck & MC Neat. Avoid like a frenchie from Amy Whiiiinehouse!
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