Deep Space - Saturday 18 August - Legends, Dover
So, it’s Saturday night, the culmination of three solid nights partying. After a wide- eyed day (again) shared by many of us who were in the vicinity of Atomics the previous night, we began congregating, discussing how much rest we’d had. Not much. Still filled with the joys of partying we set about our tasks with a remarkable vigour. Swishy and TB, VJ’s extraordinaire rose to the occasion like the seasoned troopers they have already become. Although Swish in his enthusiasm to show off nearly dropped one of his TV’s off the sack barrow whilst manoeuvring a slippery slope. Throwing the whole weight of his party-ravaged body on top of his equipment (missus) he managed in a heart-lurching moment to prevent disaster from striking. Quite impressive it was as well. I think even Swish was impressed.
The club looked farkin’ soo-perb. The space was used to maximum effect, with the backdrops accentuating the club’s unusual shape. Inviting you in. The dancefloor an arena of fun, pulling you in. Maurice had already been along to have a fiddle (missus) with the rig and it sounded better. With a license till 4am what more could anyone want?
The night was Timo’s opening night in his new capacity as Mr Legend and he’d done a grand job. We all quickly relaxed in its mellow ambience.
Understandably he suffered slightly with first night nerves. As the club is on trial for only four 4am licenses it was important for all of us that the first night be a success . No-one knew how much effect the free party a few miles away would have. With it being such a small scene, there was going to be a definite split in the audience. But worry disappeared, as more and more of the reckless renegades we associate with came through the door.
Much hugging and excited talking about what we’d all been up to in the few hours since we’d last seen each other, took place. The piss was taken out of those who’d exhibited human signs of exhaustion and had maybe flagged by the third day of the bender. We were all here to have serious fun.
Jasper positioned himself under a backdrop, that John pointed out bore an uncanny resemblance to him. And it fucking did as well. It looked exactly as Jasp would if he had blue skin and no hair (instead of brown, and not much). It began to look more like Jasper than he did himself. Then we began to suspect that Jasper really has a day time job as an artists model, and spends his days in a studio, naked amongst strategically arranged articles of fruit, draped in pink silk, 12” in hand. Denied, of course.
Gone continued his sponsored dance that had started that Thursday, culminating in a three mile walk that morning to loosen himself up for that nights mammoth sesh. Chris and Terri (on the mend) giggled and squiggled wide-eyed on the floor. Watson, obviously taking this slowing down business to heart tucked into proceedings with gusto, nicely warmed up by his staying in activities on Thursday night. Bonnie climbed immediately aboard the stage and pumped away all night, with Swishy swishing away like a good ‘un. Nick was desperate to try out her new whistle, “The Loudest in The World” proclaimed the Kite Shop owner when she had bought it that day. Bought to save a ravaged throat, with a voice gone hoarse through too much shouting and talking (and because the Notting Hill Carnival was coming up), it was fucking loud. So loud that you couldn’t really use it again after a trial blow, because you had to rush into the toilet and try and stem the flow of blood from your ruptured ears. Sara pumped away majestically, despite her profound exhaustion. Oochie lost the plot (as well as other things, ask Oz) totally and tumbled around like a loon out giving away all his tapes (so no change there then). Gone were the gels wiv’ tight tops that previously gained his attention, tonight it was chaps with big muscles. TB’s video mixing slipped down his list of priorities as he danced all night, (he’d finally stopped talking for a bit) joined by Paul who was still dancing in the car and the next day.