A SOBER NIGHT IN THE NOTORIOUS INFERNOS.

AUDIO QUACK

On Clapham High Street, squished between a kebab shop and a pharmacy, is the infamous nightclub, Infernos. Since opening in 1985, Infernos has gained quite the reputation. It’s the place Margot Robbie went on her Friday nights when she was an up-and-coming actress. And the location where Neil showed off his robotic dance moves in The Inbetweeners.

Despite the showbiz allure though, it’s far from glamorous. You don’t plan to go to Infernos, rather it’s the drag end of a heavy night. It’s the kind of place which makes you slap your aching head in the morning.

“NOOOO INFERNOS….”

Despite living on the edge of Clapham in my early twenties, I had never put a toe in the place. This was partly because I detest queuing especially in the cold, (life is too short), and partly because the club is notorious for young, thirsty men who are on the hunt for someone to share their broken Ikea mattress with.

As this reviewer on the Inferno Trip Advisor page, colourfully explains…

“For some reason, it was as if a lot of the men turned into wild animals as soon as they entered the vicinity, and women were their prey. Reminded me of a scene from Planet Earth, without the pleasure of David Attenborough, and at times I felt like a vulnerable warthog at a watering hole amongst starving lions. “

I always check the reviews before entering an establishment. It’s handy to know what Bill from Northampton thought of the mushroom and truffle pizza in Pizza Pilgrim. I also believe one day they be used as historical documents to show how good society had it. If things get hairy for us; war, alien invasions, the whole country sinks into the Atlantic.. We can reminisce about the time when our problems revolved around overcooked steak and waiting 20 minutes for a table. (See post about The Restaurant Wailer).

Infernos is rated 3 stars; some claiming it to be the best night out ever, other reviewers are not so keen….

“Visiting Infernos was like visiting a post-apocalyptic version of hell, where zombies pray after anything with a pulse and where your money is useless except to buy £12 vodkas.”

The Inferno reviews were never my concern. As someone tucked safely into their 30s and doesn’t drink, I had resigned to the fact that I wasn’t never going to see what was behind those shiny black doors on Clapham High Street.

But last Friday night that all changed…

I was happily talking away in The Northcote, when Jack and Jay discovered my Inferno-virginity. The next thing I knew, I was in the back seat of an Uber, driving far away from appropriately-aged men, and into the depths of the city’s powder room, which is Clapham Common.

This plan would almost be ok, if I wasn’t stone cold sober.

I get asked if I will ever drink alcohol again, and I always reply with a shrug and say something like, “never say never.” After all I never planned to give up alcohol, I did Dry January in 2018 and just kept going and going –in the same way Forest Gump kept running and running.

I’m happy to do most things sober, (some things are excruciating), but it’s a well-known fact that you must be drunk to be in Infernos. The sun sets in the West. It’s physically impossible for a pig to look up into the sky. You must be drunk to go into Infernos. Fact. Fact. Fact.

But, the only thing to persuade me to drink right now, would be a champagne tasting in France…. with Andrew Garfield.

So I entered Infernos… sober. The garish cherry red interior takes some getting used to, and the cloakroom man’s judgement to separate my Hilary Clinton jacket from my woolly cardigan and charge me £3 for each, made me want to drown my inner-Karen with gin, but I didn’t.

On the bright side, we didn’t have to queue because, turns out, nobody arrives before 11 p.m. So, there we were, old as hell, with a threatening net of balloons above our heads, and Backstreet Boys blasting out. I sipped my AF Corona and mourned the night I could be having with the nice men in The Northcote.

Gen-Z began piling in with their cropped tops and TikTok moves. And I got dragged me off my barstool to the dance floor, where with the help from Bon Jovi, I shook off my sulk…..

The poor Inferno DJ gets a lot of slack on the reviews.

“I’m left feeling disappointed the music is exactly the same every Saturday; as much as I love the Spice Girls and Pussycat Dolls, I think it’s best to leave those tunes for a themed night and play more up to date music….”

I, however, enjoyed his selection of Taylor Swift and Carly Rae Jepsen. I also appreciated the amount of seating options available, and I liked that there was someone constantly spraying the toilets with a cheap rose scent.