Locals aren’t what they used to be (an old man boozer, 5 minutes down the road from your house). Designed for “early doors”, “football gossip” and “blokes”.
My best mate and I have a new type of local. Near to neither of our houses but familiar and central. We know what service to expect, the clientele that will surround us, the menu (food & drink) and most importantly HAPPY HOUR (which BTW is 241 cocktails and £10 bottles of wine before 7pm). The entire colour scheme is black and bright yellow. From the leather booths to the tiles on the wall. The music, which is what I would call pop-house (music you could listen to, dance or sing along to; take your pick). In a word “camp”. Well it is a gay bar after all.
Thursday text trail:
Me: Up for a drink?
Her: Does a bear poo in the woods?
Her: suggest somewhere
Her: really, does it always have to be me?
Me: it never is. Neither of us ever choose…
Her: blah blah blah
Fast forward to 6.45pm, I arrive promptly to secure a booth and order a bottle of wine and 2 shots of Sambuca (all at HH prices). She, on the other hand meander’s in, pretending to be all dishevelled having been her usual 20 minutes late (why pretend?). Luckily I can engross myself in the numerous tweets, texts and emails on the phone (eek! well I make believe I’m busy).
The weekly catch up ensues…and the wine continues to flow. Food is ordered and eaten quickly (as you wouldn’t want to be accused of consuming carbs surrounded by men with bodies like the Chippendales.
Needless to say, it’s one of my favourite nights of the week. Some one-on-one catch up time with the bestie, good food, good wine – reasonably priced, good service (with a smile – and a flirt) and most importantly recognition that the staff know you and that you’ve been here before.
Profile, Soho. In the heart of the West End of London. Certainly worth a visit. While the venue is known to be Gay, lunch and dinner is mixed…so don’t be restricted by “type”. Later in the evening the music kicks in, the club opens…and it’s a whole new world…I can’t be held responsible for what happens next…
Column written by The Horny Devil
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