It was the last night of G-A-Y on Saturday. The much-mocked moxy mega-club shut it's mouldering doors in a final shower of Kylie, and finally slid into hell, with only a few balloons floating up from the pit.
It's curious when a chunk of your gay childhood vanishes. I remember when I was still a teenager (I think), saving up for that once-a-month trip to G-A-Y, staggering back to Oxford on the dawn bus, my eyes wide with excitement. It was so loud! It was so Kylie! It was so easy to pull! Jeremy Joseph was so old!
I even slightly remember the one time G-A-Y tried "£15 and all drinks are free". Well, I can remember queuing to get in.
I remember the joy when I moved to London and realised I could go to G-A-Y Every Single Night! That lasted a fortnight. It was like eating McDonalds every day. And that's probably when my gay childhood really ended.
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