Oops, You Didn’t Go To Ocean Again

There ain’t no party like an S Club Party…oh shut up S Club, there is. And it ain’t Ocean. If you want to spice up your life, head to Love Shack on Fridays at Rock City. Rachel’s not screaming out for more, but there may be a chance you can see Bradley swing if you ask nicely…

Totally unpretentious, Love Shack stares into the maw of the forgotten days of when Mark Goodier presented the Top 40. The music is epic: I was unashamedly flailing around like a fish on dry land to the likes of Steps, 5ive and Ricky Martin, clutching a warm can of lager, screaming about the joys of organised dance routines.

It’s reminiscent of a primary school disco, except with cheap vodka instead of Panda Pops, and middle-aged women instead of spotty boys. I was having such a good time that I didn’t even care when I realised I couldn’t move my feet after 1am as they were surgically attached to the floor; I was happily trotting around in stolen Kanye West sunglasses sipping on a big bottle of ‘champagne’ doing the Macarena.

The highlight of my night was definitely dancing on what I thought was the main stage (which actually transpired to be a very small table in the back corner) and promptly falling flat on my face into a big pool of Red Stripe.

So, if your obsession for a western and your dance floor date is calling you this Friday, head to Love Shack. You won’t look back (in anger).

Cathy Adams


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