If I wanted to take part in a scrum I'd have gone to a midnight rugby game.

This is a shout out to all the shitheads out there who love to make queueing at the bar a physical war. I do not want to go to a nightclub to get my upper body workout, or any sort of exercise for that matter, aside from occasional "dancing" which may cause other people on nights out to question both my sanity and whether or not I've got some sort of permanent problem with my nervous system. I want to drink copiously, bellow along to songs which should have been left in the past and generally have a good night.



Having to take part in the ebb and flow of people that becomes a gigantic, braced scrummage with dozens of individual three and four man teams all heading in the same direction and, apparently, attempting to widen the club twenty metres by pushing the bar and back wall away is not my idea of a great way to spend twenty minutes.

And the upshot of it all? When you (I) do get to the bar, there's a phenomenal wait while I apparently discover an inate ability to turn invisible. You see, there are reasons why I don't get served.

I am not a girl.

I am not hugely burly.

I am not a classical good looker.

These three reasons mean that I will have to stay pinned with ribs against the cold metal in front of me for at least ten minutes while the orange ladies either side of me keep moving along at speed, getting drinks and being replaced by others of increasingly cheap appearance.



I like to think I have a decent amount of "stand your ground" about me. Yesterday I tripped a dickhead on his way back from the bar, having pushed through to the front past loads of us, so that he ended up with half the drink he paid for. Due to the fact that there are so many like minded people as him about, the opacity of the crowd allowed me to get away with it, and he just shouted a bit in general to everyone in the area before buggering off. Win.

In the same evening, I managed to secure a friend's friend, who is only five feet tall bless her, my spot once I had got my drinks. I did this my exerting my not exactly considerable strength and holding back the man behind me as I backed out, pulling her into the space I was leaving, and generally making a lot of noise in the bloke's direction. As a side note, he was wearing one of those t-shirts with the collar missing so that your pecs and clavicles are allowed out to air because half of your top has been stylishly removed. Whether or not that has any bearing on this guy's character is up to you, I'm just saying what I saw in the vapid, crew cut sporting bronze chunk of solely physical magnificence and capability.



Finally, I would like to say one thing. I have never "tended bar", and I'm guessing it's quite hard when it's the end of term, it's hugely busy and your in the dark and noisy places that nightclubs tend to be. But please, when you know it will be busy, put more than three people behind a bar trying to please the hundreds along its shiny twelve metres. Or, don't complain and look put upon when the people who've been stuck for forty minutes trying to catch your eye a) act a bit impatient and b) order more than one or two drinks.