The Club Babe

Naked Midriffs Pull the eye dangerously downwards, pert podium asses swinging out from microskirts, soft breasts breaking through wisps of stringy, furry, touch-me fabric. Male clubbers can rejoice in the fact that a decade of dancing has done more for the female figure than even the most intensive of aerobics courses could have achieved.

But there's a flaw in the design; try and get a conversation going with one of these disco-vixens, or simply offer them a smile, you'll findo out fast that thier sexual promise is about as sincere as a footballer's marriage vows. Sure, they got dressed with a 70's edition of Playboy for style guidance, and if they were at a beach would be able to avoid tan-lines, but to flirt and be happy seems to be far too much to ask, they'd rather get dressed and go home.

REMEMBER ladies, porno-minded promoters have fought long and hard for your right to stand infront of a speaker wearing a fluffy bra and silver knickers and have fun. Don't let them down.

Ecstasy

If anything has complemented clubbing over the last decade, the E wins hands-down.

3,4-methylenedioxymethylamphetamine or just E, depends on the way you like it.

A chemical formula that changed the whole world. Just add music and a crowd and you have the perfect formula for a peak experience. It's a pharmaceutical reset button for years of being someone else. Strip back the foreskin of contendership and be yourself.

MDMA, Adam E, X, E, Doves, Apples, White Burgers, Snowballs, Rhubarb and Custards, half moons, they changed the world. But go easy, the last pill I was offered had a skull and crossbones on one side and "Killer" written on the other.

Mobile Phones

Look at the size of that...Nasty.

Nowadays we've all got one, so it's easy to forget the imgage I had when I borrowed my Dad's about 6 years ago. As I power-lifted that 2lb slab of Apollo 13 era electronics to your lug'ole and nuked several thousand brain cells with it's microwave transmisions, you could almost hear the whispers. "Must be a dealer" The mobile hit our shores along with house music and gave Pirate radio stations opportunity to flourish, letting DJs recieve calls form whatever condemned tower block they were desperately clinging on to.

At least back in those days, the batteries wore out quickly enough to let the drugs fry your brain before the phone did.

All night Petrol Stations

With all honesty, who can say that they have never muttered the immortal mantra: "A King Size Mars, carton of Ribena, bottle of Lucozade, a book of kingsize blue and 10 B&H, please" to the spotty blonde student behind the counter. Thanks to the perculiarly archaic way in which British commerce operates, the petrol station holds a unique place in the affections of it's youth. OK, so in design terms, they're never going to vie with Terance Conran restaurants, they have bars on the windows, stink of petrol and don't let you in after 11pm. Could they be any more perfect?

Rizla

If anyone else knows of anything more perfectly designed for the consumption of narcotics, let me know about it. OK, some prefer to go about the job by welding 3 regular size rizlas to make one long one. We'll convieniently overlook the Rizla companies in-denial attitude toward the most perfect of products (King size is for BIG cigarettes, yeah, sure) If further proof of perfection is required, hop over to the US or mainland Europe. Papers are strange shapes, and with so little glue on the edge that less than a minute after creating your latest work of considarable art, it becomes a crumpled riot of whit and green mush.

No, you can keep your fancy continental papers when it comes to wrapping a joint. Paper that holds firm and first time. and a shape surely sent down from heaven (Or Morocco) There is only one rolling paper.

Its called Rizla

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