Feat. Templeton Peck

Flushed with a fresh flush of success because of how good I write sentences like (I'm STILL Blog of the Week in The Guardian), I am now in a position to offer little guest spots to people who want to be able to write as good as what I do on THIS blog, the world famous Weekly Review of Dance Music.

Templeton Peck writes.


Malibu Stacy at Hanover Grand - on manouevers to get past Toni Tambourine on the door (always scary but never had a problem), west London public school lads in tartan trousers, lots of trannies, Seb Mundane on the decks, Judge Jules and his occasional trumpet, Jon of the Pleased. Fiction and Glitterati at The Cross were ‘glam’. Models, A-gays and euro power clubbers wearing real designer clothing. Women that I wouldn't even dream of talking to. Ariel spinning for 10 hours at Bagleys, Renaissance, Pushca, Smartie Partie, Turnmills, Gardening Club. Pissed-up recruitment consultants losing their minds to Jeremy Healy. Smokin Jo. Nicky Holloway and Carl Cox at the Velvet Rooms, now vapourised by Crossrail. Saturdays at Club UK in a Wandsworth shopping centre, hot hot and very very messy. Fabio Paras. Luvdup. SW1. Leisure Lounge in Holborn. Saturdays at Ministry for Tony Humphries - great music played to boring tourists. The Zap in Brighton. Club Aquarium swimming pool diseases. Shiny shirts. Pepe jeans. John Richmond. Paul Smith. Drinks with city boys at Mash or Atlantic Bar & Grill. Trade at 4am, politely queuing up for the dealers. The End.

If you don't understand that you better dash like Dame.