Inferno’s is one of London’s most popular “bad” clubs.
It has a weird smell, an extortionate £12 entry fee and, importantly, is located in Clapham, but in fairness it also has the three things mandatory for any nightclub populated mostly by uni students and people on stag and hen-dos: a small group of middle-aged men trying to chat up second years, an overpopulated smoking area and an emphasis on wearing fancy dress.
It’s a magnet for a truly odd mix of people, from teenage men in waistcoats to your newly divorced uncle dabbing to Ed Sheeran. I’d heard you really have to see it to believe it, so that’s exactly what I did last Friday night. This is what I overheard at Inferno’s “Iconic Disco Night”.
- “If my Juul is broken, I’ll kill myself.”
- “Why are those pensioners here?” “They’re wearing wet-look trousers!”
- “So do you think that’s a Christmas tree?” – a man to literally anyone who gave him direct eye contact about a tree that is clearly not a Christmas tree.
- “They remind me of these people who took me to a crack den. It wasn’t an actual crack den, but it looked like one. I remember I woke up in a living room and I was with these two random old men.”
- “I’m doing Kill Bill for Halloween, but I don’t think they’ll let me bring a samurai sword into the club, will they?”
- “Sarah has really bad foot odour. I’m not joking. She took her shoes off and we were all like, ‘That’s a real problem’.”
- “If you’ve come all the way from east London for Inferno’s you must be like, ‘What are these people doing?’”
- “Why does it stink like that in here?”
- “It’s like they were wearing a selection of the worst shoes possible. Why would he wear boat shoes with thick socks?”