Talk about the Passion: Hairy Trees
Dancing to a mystery song, being deafened by My Bloody Valentine, please don’t read the chapters in my books in the wrong order, music is better than drugs, Hairy Trees…. etc.
Sometime in the early noughties, around 2004 I’d guess, I was at a club night I used to go to fairly regularly. The party was called Wig Out, and happened every Saturday at a London venue called Ghetto, which like so many from that era is now no longer with us. (Ghetto was underground, appropriately enough, beneath what is now the new-ish station at Tottenham Court Road. It also hosted the legendary night Nag Nag Nag, which I managed to get into once. This is once more than Christina Aguilera or Justin Timberlake, though, who, according to legend were refused entry as their security entourage was so huge they’d have filled the place).
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