Submitted by edg on Tue, 26 Mar '02 1.53am




...on the trail of the Swiss boa inside Edinburgh's clubs






*Camel Beats*
@ the Venue
Calton Rd.


*The scene*
Scorching heat, blinding light and deafening music: the place to go with a date you neither want to look at nor speak to.

*The beats*
Camel Beats may seem like a survival trip through the desert, but the keen dancer will find an oasis of musical bliss: this is indeed techno, of the kind that will elevate you into higher spheres of pure dancing. You'll forget the bleak surrounding and smelly crowd and immerse yourself into opulent, vitalising beats. Every now and then the DJ feels the need to draw attention to himself as the creator of transcendental emotions. He slows down to a tantra-like techno, arrests your flowing movement and waits for the crowd to shout for more. A master-slave relation, there is no doubt about that.

*The hump*
Don't depend on the DJ to sustain your pleasure, you also need water bottles to keep you going. Experienced camel-goers thoroughly identify with the night's motto and carry water bottles in their baggy trousers (yes, they are still in their teens).

*The second hump*
Following the male camel's attempt to impress the female camel with huge humps, the men carry as many water bottles on them as possible. It's a great way to make friends and potentially be grabbed by a dehydrated person of the other sex. Back to basics once more.





at the Honeycomb
36-38A, Blair St.


combination of a down-to-earth cave, dizzying labyrinth (to be perfectly honest, 2 rooms only, but their circular arrangement and a few drinks may convey this impression) and a stylish make-up.

blooming youngsters in casual to ever so slightly too casual wear, more mature beard-holders and two stupid foreigners (Swiss).

in Calvin Klein's words: 'Just be'

2 dancefloors, one of which failed to attract any dancers despite or precisely because of an ominious black cobweb where the DJ was hiding. Sadly enough, his drum n' base couldn't disentangle itself from the cobweb and never reached an audience. The techno in the main room sounded promising at first but gradually faded into an irritating noise which reminded us of chain saws.

the kind of loo all newly-weds crave for: modern, functional and clean!

Ka was taken for a speed-dealer due to her energetic dance style while Mo encountered true Glaswegian charme.

*>>> Good night out if you are in the mood to dance and drink in a comfortable surrounding. Definitely not the place to go in a philosophical mood since your wit won' stand a chance against the (too) loud music.>>>*






Saturdays, on a monthly basis
@ The Shooting Gallery
32 Broughton Street

"EGO" is advertised as eccentric, glamorous, opulent. Our egoes on EGO:



you need lots of energy to keep up with the pulsating beats of this techno, drum'n'base sound. The crowd seems to practice such exercise regularly, hence: heavenly body structures.

the decoration combines red velvet curtains, pseudo new-surerealist slogans on the walls (for instance: "read, eat, hardpiercing, your vision is yours", or so we seem to recollect...) and genital cardboard hangings on the wall. The crowd is a crossover of homos and hets.

our own particular ego design hilariously differed from the rather homogenous ego-interpretations of the crowd. In order to blend in with this body-conscious crowd we conscientiously adorned ourselves with temporary tatooes. Yet, among the number of real tatooes, our kids-for-fun action-heroes weren't too impressive. Nor did we seem to get the right look: our short, girlie flowerdresses (yes we were aiming at the paedophile look!) clashed with the overall dark and skin-tight style of the other ego-goers.

your ego is worth eight quid, isn't it?


*gay & gorgeous*
" too cute to be straight" is more than just a saying... This realisation leads us to the following philosophical reflections: Why did Darwin's theory of the survival of the fittest take such a disappointing turn? The more attractive a member of the male species, the less interest he seemed to show in the female species. Surely this is an effective device against overpopulation...?

*genetic engineering*
as in a laboratory, the decoration of the two rooms neatly kept apart female and male cardboard parts.The first floor presented a scary vision of fully-fledged, double-dick like butterflies. The second floor was obviously dedicated to the female organ, which ( for obvious reasons) didn't need any major aesthetic surgery: vagina regina... By the way, there even seemed to have been an educational purpose behind it all. The clitoris was highlighted, just in case some men didn't know of its existence... (we are not frustrated)


the music seemed to have that effect on the crowd. The later and hotter the night got, the more men took off their tops. A spectacular moment in the history of female voyeurism.

forget that the World Cup is over and get a life again. Make your life less ordinary, even if it's only this once...

sadly and unexplicably so, Moka didn't get the attention they deserve(d). We live, we learn. Next time we will leave our action heroes at home.

We save the best for last: there goes a slogan on the wall we could identify with most: AND IN DENIAL YOU ARE YOUR OWN MARTYR!




at Cafe Graffiti
Mansfield Place


*location*: converted church, heathen aspect of this ungodly act is heightened by the presence of an impressive stuffed moose at the entrance and a prehistoric bird of prey over the bar.

*crowd*: flamboyant, hip-swinging hedonists.

*atmosphere*: missed that trip to the Caribbean, here you go!

*music*: DJ not only provides us with a combination fo funky grooves, old-school hip hop but also helps us to make the world a better place. His short but nevertheless concise message: 'Peace'! Yet his message was not received by the vibrant crowd...

*loos*: a freezing beauty-saloon.

*encounters*: crash course in surrealist dialogues.

Mo: what do you do?
xy: I collect Greek extraterrestrials.
Mo: how many have you got?
xy: 14, it's a full-time job.

a few minutes later he confessed: Sorry, I lied to you. I've only got two...

Ka: Have you ever been to the Shetland Islands?
yz: I know an injured seal there. His name is Ben.
Ka: Is Ben feeling better?
yz: Call him. He's got a mobile...

>>>*Good night guaranteed: if the music doesn't sweep you off your feet, the dialogues will!>>>*




at the Venue
Calton Rd.


*location*: the spooky sensation you get from the grey, dull and smoky outside is followed by an anticlimax when you actually enter the place: it couldn't be more ordinary!

*crowd*: sweaty students who haven't quite outlived their rebellious attitude towards their parents. Thus, Motherfuck!

*atmosphere*: if no smoke-machine is aiming at you, someone is certainly rubbing his sweaty body against your reluctant body or stubbing out his fag on you. Even though your senses are rebelling, at least you feel intensly alive! It's hard to tell if it's peer-pressure or just the lack of space which makes you move to the rythms of the crowd.

*music*: 'Funk', what else?

*loos*: great place to eavesdrop on the latest student romance.

*encounters*: to be perfectly honest, we couldn't be bothered.

>>>* if you can't afford a sauna: have this sweating- experience for free!>>>*




at the Century 2000
31, Lothian Rd.


*location* What looks like a cinema on the outside is actually a big, cheesy club!

*4 reasons to go*

1. great night out for a paedophile!
2. play the 'guess-my-age-game' and be disillusioned!
3. prove that the world of fashion has opposite effects on girls and boys: while sixteen-year old girls force their way into twelve- year old's summer-clothing (the tighter, the better!) boys tend to prefer to hide their pre-muscular bodies in the more unrevealing, baggy wear.
4. want to have a fight and win?

*4 reasons to leave*

1. you're more into the 'grab-a-granny'-groove!
2. deja-vue experience of puberty in full bloom frightens you off!
3. add the latest chat-up's to your autobiography. A sample:

Boy: Are you the girl working at the Post Office on Nicolson Street?
Girl: No.
Boy: Can I have a drag of your fag?
Girl (reluctantly): Sure.
Boy: Did it look natural?
Girl (definitely disinterested): yes. why?
Boy: You see, I'm actually a non-smoker!
Girl danced off, baffled by his originality...

4. you lost the fight! (poor thing)




or: Do MoKa dream of testosteron-driven animals???
at Club Mercado
Market Street


It was pouring with rain (does someone believe in signs?) when MoKa finally stood eye-to-eye with two solid but slightly dim looking bouncers. They showed no mercy on us whatsoever and they seemed to be irritatingly immune to our charms (another rather strange sign!) This phenomenon of hardened attitude would soon be solved... Eventually, the big bulky bastards were told by the master- bouncer voice over the earphones that a new victim supply was needed: In we went. Soon our eyes were opened to the dark secrets of this temple of doom!

By following a few simple rules, beloved reader, you'll be spared our fate:

1. Keep a close eye on your body parts, as in this environment they are considered 'common-grabbing-ground'!
2. Protect your arms from being abused as ashtrays!
3. Special attention should be paid to the vulnerable position of your rear. A good defense-strategy is to dance back-to- back with a friend!
4. Don't be confused if members of the male species take you for a 'breastriloquist'! The dominant fantasy in this club seems to be that if you're persistent enough, breasts will actually respond to your lecherous stares.

A revealing night out if you are not yet familiar with the abyss of the human (or more specifically male!) psyche.




Various venues
(This one was at theABC Cinema, Lothian Rd.


- tame your boas (blue ones are known to be highly aggressive, but Mo managed not to get bitten this time!) and spray lice-killer on your whigs!
- don't get the glue of the false eye-lashes in your eyes!
- hide spots under tattoos!

*Quest for the Party*
In front of the rather deserted looking Assembly Rooms Ka asked the guy who looked like a bouncer (fat and dumb):

Ka: Do you know where 'Going Places' is held tonight?
Bouncer: I'm afraid the travel agency is closed now...

Moral of the conversation: Parties change locations and not every fat and dumb guy is a bouncer!

*At the Party*
The motto of the party 'dress to impress' has led people to various interpretations. The stylish ones were wearing a boa (of course!) and the less stylish ones looked as if they had dressed in the dark! Overall, the crowd tried to imitate movie-stars of the fifties and there were actually a few guys our grandmothers would have fallen for! The very friendly and flirtatious atmosphere brought out the 'man-eater' in us. Mo outdoing her usual imaginative self, an example:

Mo sights victim at the bar ordering a coke without ice. Mo's witty chat-up line: So, you drink your coke without ice!!!

We will, for obvious reasons, withhold the exciting exchange of drinking-habits following such a punch-line.

Ka was more successful with the direct and more down-to-earth strategy: (mis)using her boa as a lasso!

*The morning after*
don't ask! The recovery took way longer than the preparation, but no hang-over was ever accompanied by such sweet memories...


The Shooting Gallery (Saturdays)
32 Broughton St.



This interpretation of 'Las Vegas' in the 50's is a very free but fun one indeed...

Were you ever afraid that those heavy chandeliers in 'Going Places' would crash down on you? Be relieved... the 'chandelierphobia' is instantly cured when gazing at the ceiling: large inflatable bananas!




-Never was dressing-up so profitable: instead of being humiliated roaming around granny's wardrobe gets you in cheaper!

-Just never been that lucky guy? entering Vegas' version of 'Blind Date' (it was rather a 'Blind and Deaf Date' because seeing and hearing was an impossibility!) could change your looser-image for life: win that 'Smoke Stack' dinner without saying much...and the little you do say nobody hears anyway!

What the hell does a guy swinging a skull-walkingstick, making uncoordinated movements and yelling into the microphone have in common with Frank Sinatra? MoKa's rather feeble guess was: 'He did it his way'!


Boy: Did it hurt?
Ka (looking rather puzzled): What???
Boy: When you fell from heaven...
it's probably not worth mentioning that this did not float Ka's boat, to use an american expression!
Mo's catch was slightly less melodramatic.
Boy: Hi, we're having a break-dance competition. Would you like to join in?
Mo: ???
Sadly enough, the 'breaking-the-ice-with-break-dance' strategy failed horribly on Mo too.


TAKE ME BACK TO SANITY....(well, sort of)