half Cut and Trashed

Fringey had been meaning to go to Trash at the End for ages. Unfortunately when we finally made it, over the hallowed threshold, never had the words ‘c**t soup’ been so apt a description. And don’t get me started on the bitch at the door deciding if we were cool enough to come in.

However, CUT COPY ruled. After coming straight from Glastonbury (still wearing their wristbands) we expected a subdued set, but there was jumping, air punching, and hand claps ahoy. After a dodgy start, it was fab electro disco all the way, you couldn’t not dance (although many of the trashed tossers watching thought they were above that type of thing).

The club itself *should* have been like icing on the Cut cake. The dj (Erol Alkan) knew what he was doing and the music was very much to our liking, but again, the po faced twats on the dancefloor couldn’t dance! It was like being in a ‘special school’ disco. We didn’t stay till the end.

Trash can take their "dress code which is really more of an attitude code" and stick it up their collective arse!