So, we were all up for a good night out on Saturday, it was my boyfriends sisters birthday, nice! It all started great around my house with drinks and we were all looking forward to a good old time and busting some wicked moves on the dancefloor of Mantra in Windsor.

We hired a cab to take us to the club, all having a laugh and a giggle singing old school tunes and taking the piss out of Lil 'Lazy Mouth' Wayne on the way. "Just like a cop carrrrr". Yeah, good start to the night!

We got to Windsor at 9.57pm to be exact, which wasn't a problem as they wasn't putting the entry price up till 11pm. When we turned the corner to walk to the club, we saw the queue was MASSIVE! However, we had our alcohol jackets on and we thought we would get into the club pretty soon. So we started chatting to random people in the queue making queue friends. I found out this girl had her first black boyfriend! From the way she was walking and the smile on her face, I don't think she will be dumping him anytime soon.

10 minutes passed and we hadn't moved anywhere and our alcoholic armour had started to show some chinks. We quickly became freezing and parts of our bodies were turning numb. Not a good feeling with 4 inch heeled open toed shoes on.

Another 10 minutes had passed and we had moved all of 2 metres. When where we going to make it in??? Finally, we got in at 10.30pm with a sigh of relief. Our night could finally begin!

I think I did the movement where you make a fist in the air and bring it down close to your body in triumph.

Excitedly we ran to the ladies at the desk and they said:

"£15 please".

Through chattering teeth I replied:


... to which they responded


Now wait one cotton picking minute, advertising everywhere said it was £10 before 11pm, even their own website! I wanted to stand there and argue but my partner who has to constantly keep me in check just said:

"Stina, lets just pay and go in for godsake"

If it was my night out, I would've got the manager down and made them charge me and my friends the correct price, not the price they decided that moment they were going to charge us, or I wouldve just gone to Vanilla Night Club round the corner for free and told them where I was going. The club obviously wanted to take advantage of the situation and assumed that because people had queued up for 30 minutes in the cold they were willing to pay anything. There was 8 of us so times that by £15 they made £120 from us, not including drinks.

It was actually really busy that night because some idiot called Danny Dyer was "djing" and they wanted to make as much money as possible.

The night didn't get much better, my friend saw Jack Tweed, Jade Goodys husband, walk up the steps inside the club. Great, this place attracts fucking twats. When Danny Dyer came on, most girls rushed forward whilst I hung back with my blackitude.

Blackitude [blak-ee-tyood] – noun Slang. Attitude most often adopted by black people to demonstrate a total lack of enthusiasm or care for any task undertaken. Usually accompanied by a noise produced by sucking of the teeth to further illustrate a lack of regard for virtually any situation which requires effort or verbal communication.

His opening line was "What a great crowd! Bollocks to it, lets play some music" For some reason there was another guy playing the CD's...?! Hmmm, I thought Danny Dyer was meant to be djing. He spent the whole night rambling some incoherent drug induced rubbish and using words only an uneducated fool would use.

After he got off, the original DJ came back on and I was free to cut some pretty damn impressive shapes as always. To be honest I couldn't wait to get home as it was so cold in there and my night had already had a downer put on it from the a fore mentioned events.

I spent most of Sunday sleeping and being sick. Thanks for that Mantra.

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