Voice Online Blog

By Miss London

I think I’m getting old readers! I feel like I don’t know how to rave or party anymore! I’m only 20 and I’d much rather stay indoors with friends and a good DVD, than go Ministry of Sound and rave the night away!

It’s weird because only a year ago I used to be considered the original party starter!
I started the raving scene from early! Growing up in the party seaside town of Brighton and Hove meant that I was raving from the age of 15! Every other night I would hit the Brighton University Raves and out dance everyone on the dance floor! And I definitely didn’t need alcohol to have a good time! Just great music and great people!

Now I’m a Bailey’s-sipping, book-reading university student that only goes raving if I’m forced to, even if I’m getting in for free!
I feel like I don’t need to go raving anymore! I’ve heard every song and skanked every skank! What else is there left to do? The drinks are overpriced, the girls that attend are on a hype and I always end up participating in some sort of stare down competition with them! Plus there are never any good men!
That’s right I said it! You’ve got more chance in finding a black girl in “Hollyoaks” than a decent guy in a rave! And even if there is one good-looking guy, he’s either taken, only likes white girls or doesn’t like you back!
But guaranteed there will be the one ugly guy in the rave that’s ready to settle down and make you his wife, which means you’ve got to spend the whole night playing hide and ‘don’t’ seek to avoid him!

It’s ridiculous! But then again maybe I’m just going to the wrong clubs.

My girls decided to try and get me out of my anti-rave faze and dragged me out of my house at 00.30am to go to this night called “Passion.” Even though I have negative views of raving, I decided to give it a chance although I planned to analyse everything to see if I could prove myself wrong.
We got to the club around 1am – from what I can remember 1am is supposed to be ‘peak raving time’.

The queue was ridiculous and full of big women in small clothes wearing long weaves and high heels!
For every five women there was one guy, but I spotted a few nice ones in the queue so at least I had some eye candy.
I wasn’t about to stand in the queue for a second longer, so I played my Diva card and luckily one of the promoters had been to one of my shows and instantly recognized me – I think his name was Colin.

Colin led me and my girls straight to the front and we smiled at the ladies giving us the evil eye as we bypassed the queue.

As soon as we got in, we headed straight to the toilets – In case any guys were wondering, ladies go to the toilets as soon as they get into a rave to A) sort out their game plan for the night ahead and B) prepare their hair and make-up and do a quick armpit check! LOL!

Once we left the toilets I assessed my surroundings, the club was dark and rammed! There were grinding wining, sweating…This is why I don’t rave!
It didn’t take two seconds for me to be involved in my first female stare down. One girl with more weave than fashion sense, barged past my arm causing me to do an improvised 2-step. I’m not one to cause trouble, but she turned round and kissed her teeth at me like I was in the wrong!

She was clearly a grown woman, about 30 odd, and almost certainly Jamaican – she had that whole “yardie” look to her. I didn’t want to get my head buss open so I left it by turning my back and walking away.

I was wondering where exactly my girls were, seeing as they didn’t have my back throughout this whole ordeal, but I spotted them by the bar talking to these two guys, I decided to join them but I didn’t want to be the third wheel so I occupied myself by buying a drink and doing some observations.

There were guys everywhere, brown skin light skin dark skin white skin you name it! Each one of them looking hungrier than the next, dribbling over any girl with a bum.
I saw two girls slap bang in the middle of the dance-floor. They were obviously regular ravers wearing matching’ outfits and doing some sort of synchronised bashment dance routine. A group of guys had gathered around them trying their hardest to get a dance, but the girls weren’t having none of it. To the right of the dancers stood another group of girls looking unimpressed with the lack of attention they were receiving… Behind them were the roadman, or gangsters, shottas whatever you want to call them. Then you had the hench guys in tight Ed Hardy Tops…

My perception of ravin was still the same, nothing had changed! I was charged me £6 for my single shot of Baileys, nearly beaten up by an extra from “Dancehall Queen” and there was hardly any decent guys anywhere…

“Excuse me” I heard a male voice shout of the music.

I turned to find myself greeted by a rather attractive young man who was standing next to me.

After a minute of staring at him, I managed to muster up a “yeah” all the time wondering why I hadn’t noticed him earlier.
He was very good looking, had a nice dress sense and I was impressed that he didn’t address me with “oi, wa gwarn my size?” or “are you gonna bang though?” I was starting to think he could change my view on raves, he seemed like a decent guy.

I don’t know whether it’s just me but when I meet a guy I can’t help but imagine what are kids would look like and from the looks of him I imagined that we’d have beautiful kids! He smelt like Paco Rabanne’s One Million fragrance and I’d already fallen for the three freckles on his left cheek. But then he delivered his next line:
“Oi yeah, you’re that comedian chick init? I thought it was you! Miss London, that’s your name init? Yeah you’re funny still! Tell me a joke please!”

I stared at him blank while he called his friends over.

“Oi Michael, you know Miss London init! Yeah member when we saw her at Kojo’s that time? Yeah, her! Oi come, tell me and my bredrin a joke init!”

This is why I don’t go raving!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 at 2:13 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.