Wednesday, 12 August 2009

Other Peoples Property - The Sets & Rises of Messr Beautifuck

O.P.P @ The Korsan
“Come on babes, come to my bbq?” With a whine I hopped out the sack still recovering from last night’s encounter with a Broken Battered Doll...
BD -”It’s my second time.” MB-“got some straps?” BBD- “yeah in the drawer...”

Cue draw contents – perfectly stacked Aztec pyramid of prophylactics with a Rabbit sat to its right side and KY to its left – so it turned out she was a faux virgin. Still a bit shaken the following morning I threw some shapes and clothes in the air which landed all Indie on my body.
With a deranged headache and a tube journey looming at the top of my road I popped into the corner shop and hooked myself up with two secret agents (can of coke and JD miniature). Slugging them down as my train wound its way from the arsehole of the suburbs into the guts of London. Appearing slightly a-sway at Mile End Station I was hollered “babes!” by Port Au Luis my Portuguese chi chi pal. We headed to the BBQ. Shortly after we left because it was seriously tame and we arrived post food. Selfish?

Taking Port Au Luis in hand we headed off a skip down to Kingsland Rd to a friend’s new night at the Korsan. Under hugs and pecks I wound through an undulating crowd of adult all sorts and people pic ‘n’ mix. The music was absolutely fucking mental with men in masks, pet middler and bonnersmotherfuckingdropdown playing a game of dominos with their track list, setting them up to knock them the fuck down! Bumping into friends of friends and chatting away with complete strangers who mutated into new acquaintances over the evening.

Mandy seemed to be in everyone’s pocket or on most minds with drink and the rest filling up every other skull. I thought this worth investigation and no sooner had I thought but a short Victorian looking girl popped up beside me all cockney and questions. Turns out this party had what it now seems most others missed.

A Cockney Victorian Lesbian narcotic middle bird.

She knew all the shotters on the premises and just told the collected crowd what was on offer and where to find it. It worked a fucking treat as this night had a vibe I rarely see, a vibe of smiles and jolly’s under a blanket of dark booms and shrill squeaks, a villainous frivolity as surrounding as the speakers. Fuck Ken in this rave the Barbie’s smash it. I will be at the next one.

Words - Darragh O'Meachair
Photography - Voita Otevrel

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