I went to a club...
I know.
First time in about 250 years.
Um, yeah.
What are you supposed to DO in clubs? If you're not fumbling around bashing into miscellaneous inebriated boys wanting to smooch the bejesus off your face, and you're not violently thrashing yourself around the dance floor like an intoxicated bafoon, or doing tacticals in the cubicle, um, wadda ya do? It's pretty awkward. You look around and think; "right, what is the BEST possible outcome here?"
Ummm, errrr. They could give everyone a complimentary kitten on the way out??
No?
All the boys could turn into jelly beans and the bouncers could turn into unicorns and all the girls could just eat jelly beans and ride unicorns and the heinous music could just be switched off for ever and ever and never turned on again, not EVER?
No. Not gonna happen. A Steers Burger on the way home, folks. That's it. That's as good as it's gonna get. That is the HEIGHT of your night at Cotton Fields in Umhlanga (Cotton Fields. Cotton. Fields??), the feral place.
