Not renowned for their elegance, Gentleman’s clubs appear to be a dying breed. The ‘lock-ins' I used to hear about also seem to be disappearing.
Seedy pole dancing I haven’t come across in years, probably because I no longer look for it, the last time was in the nineties at that American chain, ‘Hooters’ in Phoenix, AZ.
This one certainly has died at a guess... around the year 2012 when some bright spark was paid to burn it down.
As this has already done the rounds and the 'fucking newspapers' have gotten hold of it, I don't mind spilling the beans too much.
I do personally know the particular explorer in the news article and though I am against 'selling out' stories, I am not enough of a bigot to condemn his actions.
Whatever...., I did find this one due to Bearded Reality's YouTube video that was published months ago and it was not hard to track down.
I also knew getting it was a matter of sliding down a slippery large unstable sheet of metal and hoping you were not going to land on your arse due to all the crap and shit lurking at the bottom.
Getting out again is a problem you determine when you want to leave. Live semi-dangerously I say, and think of the consequences later.
Nightclubs are generally black in colour and when burnt even more so. The lower level of this pristine establishment is made up of ‘Chutney Mahal’, the former attached Indian restaurant boasting spices from the orient.
What was it going to be like after 8 years of dust collection?
Take your choices of beer, though Cobra is the dominant one looking at the masses of glasses all stacked up. Not a bad pint if I say so.
Just look at those prices! Chicken Wings at £2.85 followed by Lamb Malai Chops at £7.95 please?
So 'The Derelict North' has been here. Signature's in dust, broken glass and stickers are becoming a thing. Again... whatever!
There are a few exotic plants left, made of real genuine plastic.
You always get that jingly-jingly Indian music in these restaurants, one original DVD and a load of copies. I could tell they were ripoffs despite the copious muck all over them.
That’s @dizzydiscovery looking like a ghostly barman.
There’s even a half pint on the bar, did someone leave it there 12 years ago?
I’m sure it was genuine Indian cuisine, don’t they all say that?
So getting upstairs to Mystique was a little more challenging, but you can’t expect the red carpet to be rolled out.
It was never going to be a show-stopper and climbing over mounds of crap is all part of the fun.
This is the entrance to Mystique. Could you imagine this in its heyday?
A a security log from the days when it was open (2011). Whoever this was checked in when the action began and left when he wanted.
This is where you order your drinks. I am surprised the floor has not caved in. Part of the roof has collapsed and a bit of light was poking through.
Here we have the pole dance where the girls would get their stuff off, and wiggle their boobies for the beady-eyed blokes watching.
The comfortable seating where you would ogle the women wrapping themselves around said pole.
There are some lights and a speaker left, all blackened by the fire damage.
This was a cup of pure orange, now a cup of penicillin.
Capturing the scene can be difficult. The cobwebs, the atmosphere often doesn’t make it into your image.
These cans of Red Bull were sealed and yet empty. How does that happen; Evaporation over the years perhaps?
I didn’t go too far into the toilets, but this image reminded me of Cadburys Dairy Milk. I think it’s the latest colour scheme they are using.
Sadly we had to leave Mystique as there was nothing else to see.
It was a great start to our day even though @dizzydiscovery had to physically shove me up that slippery metal slide by the arse with me grunting and sweating profusely.
The shit we do just to get inside places. One would think we had a screw loose or something?
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