Visiting the capital

Last Thursday, I made the trip to London. I rendevous-ed with Mel and Lynsey in Leicester Square, but prior to that I had a Subway just off the place, where the two workers were bopping around to classic eighties Michael Jackson. As the ladies' birthdays had passed in the interim since our last meet, I gave the finger to Mel and another and another, since they were all chocolate finges of the mini variety locked up in a metal Cadbury's van of a box. An extrovert Aussie broke away from his coterie and struck up a conversation out of the blue, probably after having more pints than his bodily organs could cope with. Mel subtly bought him off with one of the packet of fingers inside the box. Lynny got a book about the wiles of dog lovers (with her Tommy in mind).
We set off for the Trash Palace where Mr Savory was in attendance as DJ. That it was near a certain fried chicken outlet and was proud to have 'trash' in its name, seemed to just speak Simon. Along Wardour Street, we entered free of charge (always a good thing) and made our way up the stairs. We bumped into Simon and his debonair girly wig straight away but the lasses were not aware at first, to the extent that I thought they were pulling one.
Apparently, the Palace was doubling as The Cleavage Club that night. It certainly fitted in as a den of ill-repute, with its gaudy colours and mock cultural paintings hanging from the walls. The bed at one end could have been employed equally by madams or opium smokers. Simon didn't seem to do much DJing, perhaps just a half-hour set of eighties 'toons', from a more leftfield aspect (but no Biloxi Blues!) tahn commercial. The general music was fine and some eminently danceable. Simon was also determined that Bananarama get an outing. The little DJ (match)box where the turntables were, reminded me of a popular alternative club in Tampere, Finland I used to frequent, where it was pretty open to people who conceived of themselves as DJs.
At the other end there was a cmaera doing some interviews with some very colourful figures, no doubt TV for transexual transmission. One of the guys in the vicinity, in addition, had a full-bodied quiff almost as long as his face. After the first round, Mel, Lynny and I drank some white wine which was rather sharp, even for house plonk. I had to leave early as I needed to catch the last train back to Gillingham, since there was no train leaving early enough on the Friday to get me to my job on time. So I departed around 11.30pm and whsked off home.