Queuing for clubs is, more or less, like being in purgatory. You stand there for minutes, hours, days, contemplating your life, shivering your nipples off, knowing this can only go one of two ways: you're either in or you're out. It's good or it sucks, but for now, it definitely sucks.
Even when you get to the front it's grim. There's every chance of having all the liquid in your bag drained as some gloved hand inevitably rifles through your stuff (and Fiji water doesn't come cheap).
Berghain clubbers undoubtedly have it the worst. The Berlin superclub's whole schtick is that it's a total bitch to get in to. Which doesn't stop the seemingly endless mass of, 'How to get into Berghain' guides penned by everyone from Reddit users to Telegraph feature writers. You can queue for hours before being sent home for not being on a non-existent guest list. After hours of queueing, failing to impress the bouncers and shuffling home on the metro, you end up getting to your front door about the same time you would IF SOMEONE HAD ACTUALLY LET YOU IN. Depressing right?
That's why, to make the process a little more bearable, Smirnoff have invented something that's been missing forever; something that makes queuing for the club like being in the club. Let us explain.
In Bristol recently, the club queue for Pryzm – one of those maze-like clubs with a plethora of different events going on – is rarely short. On a typical Saturday night, queues can get up to 500 deep. 500. Imagine turning up and waiting for 499 people to enter a club before you can get turnt. Then, imagine a Land Rover rolling up. Not just any Land Rover, but a Smirnoff Land Rover, equipped with a DJ booth that starts blasting out a set to the waiting line. Headphones are given out, and the previously soul destroying queue becomes this massive mobile silent disco. There's smoke machines, lights, and all the usual things that made you queue up for a club in the first place. It's like you're inside already – dreamy.