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Thinly-disguised entrances to Hell where bad things happen. Tell us your dancefloor disasters.
( , Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:35)
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I once went into a club with my mate and a packet of cashews in my pocket, and spent a chunk of the evening handing them out to dancers, saying I worked for the Nut Marketing Board and this was a free sample of "the nut of the future".
Another time we filled our shirt pockets with bran flakes, and at a predetermined moment we ate the bran. A bouncer saw us and demanded we told him what we were eating. "It's bran," we replied, "it keeps us regular." He looked at us strangely, and surprisingly didn't throw us out.
( , Wed 8 Apr 2009, 18:14, 5 replies)
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Happened in the classy "42nd Street" in Manchester, back in about 1998.
( , Thu 9 Apr 2009, 12:30, closed)
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