Blu Bambu

Kiwi has never been to Blu Bambu, and it had to be done before we leave so last night was the night we chose. Bigg Market is colourful on a Saturday night. Just as we were arriving outside the club, a man flew in front of us. His eyes were glazed and staring, his mouth open, drooped and drooling, much like something from Dawn of the Dead. His body flew right by us and thumped horizontally onto the pavement, having hit a wall. He was one of the most sober specimens out that night...

Inside the legend that is Blue Bambu, the music is awesome, love to go dancing with my Kiwi and I wasn't disappointed. It's guaranteed tunes to bump and grind to - old school anthems, R&B and chart, without the cheese. The Blu Bambu crowd is a mixture of chavs, inebriated stags and hens, the 'over 40, gonna relive my youth' and the 'under 18 but got in cause my skirt's up my arse and the bouncer wants to bang me'. But everyone is out for a good night, just to drink, dance and be merry. I'm not one who much loves uber cool clubs where the music's so good you've never heard it before, and the crowd resemble mini Kate Mosses, Pete Dochertys and Amy Winehouses.

We boogied into the early hours, but the more beer Kiwi drinks, the slower his dancin' shoes get. So at the point where I was dancing against a man-shaped wall, we left for home, via a dirty burger bar. One of the benefits of living in Newcastle's centre, you can walk home which leaves spare pennies for greasy food, and a brisk totter home makes you feel like you earned the extra calories. All good - until this morning when I woke up and the taste of garlic sauce was as though a skunk had farted in my mouth. Tasty.