This is heavy brocade, faux-glitz and gaudy-glitter. A throw-back that becomes de rigeur. A heaving wench's bosom. Vaudeville and Moulin Rouge and to be honest about it, a whole new plane of life.

One of the North West's top nights out, this is clubbing that is real, yet seems imagined.

A concept by The Admiral and Marky-J, who were pretty sick of the mediocrity that had slipped into mainstream clubbing - characterless and cloned, the superclubs were becoming too manufactured. A concept-planning event where I suspect a few drinks kicked in before the finer details were embellished enough to become today's reality.

It's like someone hosting a fancy dress party at the last minute - everyone raiding their ma's makeup bag and tights draw to hurredly make costumes out of an empty egg box, a matchstick, anything they can lay hands on and managing to come up with something fabulous. Where the true artisan meets the high-brow artiste. A place where attitude fizzles out as infectious fun takes over. A knowing nod and a grin of encouragement as the crowd go exotic, erotic and slightly psychotic.