The door gorilla growls ‘ That’ll be £5, gents. Gotta search you first, tho.’ From the queue behind, a voice offers its owner’s slant on a party of hefty hens poured into dildo pink Lycra leotards, leg-warmers and glittery Stetsons - a look that’s more ghee than Glee. ’Them mingers’ll pay you to frisk ‘em, mate.’ Welcome to ‘80s night at Pop-Up Pirates, a new club-bar where once stood prototype Clerkenwell lounge, Dust. The interior, from the crew responsible for The Queen of Hoxton, references the area’s traditional links with printing. 3D letters and garish daubed slogans rule. Pow! Bam! Splat! I've walked into a Batman comic. The early-doors, early-20s punters have largely ignored the Sergio Tacchini shell-suit & gold rope chain dress code in favour of New Look’s sale rail. Still, it seems the sort of people whose outfits the Shoxditch style mafia wouldn’t wipe their clenched bahookeys on are more about having a laugh than looking hilarious - sorry, edgy. Refreshing! We order dry martinis, useful at £6.50. The lardette hens neck Cherry Popper, Don’t Go To Dalston (as if!), Mai Turn and Screwface. Like wibbly raspberry mousses (mooses?) they wobble to their Mums’ fave disco oldies while other dancers attempt to revive the hula hoop craze (the plastic kind as opposed to the potato snacky kind). The Pointer Sisters' Automatic segues into a Shalamar track, my cue to leave. In truth, the ‘80s are not necessarily better The Second Time Around.
27 Clerkenwell Rd EC1 7490 5120
