Lady Flysox blows a kiss

Sixties music doesn't turn me on. Seventies music doesn't do it for me either. So why does Eighties music create a chemical imbalance in my brain, causing me to dance in such an outrageous fashion?

Did my parents play me these songs through headphones before I was even born, instilling in me an innate subconscious trigger? Perhaps, but I'll save the speculation for a scientific journal. Whatever the reason; last Saturday I walked into the Zodiac Room at the Carling Academy and I just had to find a space on the dance floor.

This was no mean feat as this room - or Trashy as it's known on Saturdays - was absolutely heaving with people with exactly the same idea as my friends and I. We jumped up and down without a care in the world, shouting the lyrics along with the songs.

When our drinks got empty it was a tough decision whether to go to the bar and risk missing some more brilliant tunes or stay there dancing!

We stayed; and it was at this point that a girl approached me. She leaned in to say something to me, and assuming that she was just trying to squeeze past me on a busy dance floor I tipsily made a high-pitched, nonsensical and very loud noise back at her, then carried on dancing!

It was only afterwards that a mate told me she had actually said Hi Ben! I haven't seen you in years; how are you?'. I felt slightly rude and ridiculous that my only response to that question had been an animal noise and a turned back, so if you're reading this, I apologise.

Downstairs in the main room was indie-night Transformation, and there were about as many people on the dance floor as a chav has brain cells. The fake smoke machine was working overtime, and with very few people this combined to create the sense that I was lost at sea.

Next door, Room 101 was playing rock and metal - an experience that I can only recommend if you get your kicks from seeing grown men with beards freaking out to Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit.

Not your cup of tea? No; I didn't think so. By the end of the night my wallet was hurting from yet more Morgan's Spiced Rum, but my soul was glowing from all the emotional nourishment that a fantastic night out with close friends brings to you. My waistline was certainly thanking me for all the dancing I did too! Trashy was the hands-down winner of the night, but with the variety of three very different rooms to take your pick from, I have to say that the Carling Academy is one of my favourite places to be on a Saturday night.

4:51pm Thursday 6th March 2008

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