How do you spell "repost"?
I'm sure I'm not the only one here to fall for this (at least, I hope I'm not).

Picture the scene, if you will. Four guys in their early twenties have just stumbled off the train at Euston. They're down in London from deepest, darkest Shropshire for a stag weekend.

Naturally, being young, stupid and horny they head for Soho. And, naturally, they head for the nearest "gentlemen's club." But, also because they are young, stupid, horny and poor, they don't head for a reputable establishment such as the Raymond Revue, or the like. Oh no, they head for the seediest, most out-of-the-way, back street strip club they can find.

The girl at the door is extremely friendly. She tells them that it only costs a fiver to get in. A fiver? That's practically free! They all troop downstairs and duly hand over their 5 pounds.

They are seated in a waiting room, and more friendly girls come over and chat to them about where they're from and what they're doing in London. The lads chat away and, every so often, grin at each other - they've truly stumbled upon an onanistic pleasure palace here!

At this point a slightly older woman comes in. She wants to talk business. She points out to the lads that, just by entering the premises, they now owe £250. Each. The lads are quite taken aback by this, and quite reasonably point out that this wasn't mentioned earlier. The woman also quite reasonably points out that it is written on the door, if they had only cared to look, and would they be paying the £250 now?

The young lads say no, really quite firmly. At which point the woman shouts "SECURITY!" and four beefy black guys appear from around the corner. The young lads change their tune and, after pleading poverty, manage to escape having handed over about £100.

They fall out of the door, gasping and spluttering at what's just happened. They look around with dead eyes. Never again will they see the world the same - never again will they be so naive.

Yes, ladies and gents, that is the story of how I and three others got done over in a soho clip joint. We imagined we were shrewd, men-about-town. In fact we might as well have had barley stalks sticking out of our mouths.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 15:29, 4 replies)

Does that still happen?
Or has the mobile phone killed it off a little?
The first thing I would do in that situation would be dial 999, followed by asking the woman what would happen if we tried to leave and pretending I was a little deaf...
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 17:39, closed)

The met are cracking down
according to some fly on the wall thing.

I'm of the (armchair tactician) opinion that the best way would be 'oh, you don't take plastic? Can you drag me to a cashpoint?' and make the biggest scene you possibly can once in the open air.

The beatings may still continue, but there's a slightly (this is London) higher chance of someone coming to your aid, or at least watching disinterestedly and then going through your pockets.
( multijoy, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 19:18, closed)

I think they have credit card machines and cash points...
... at least the ones I have heard of did. But I do like your idea if you could get it to work -- at the very least you'd be on CCTV being beaten so if you lived you would be compensated.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 19:54, closed)

!
What I don't understand is, at the point when you are "marched to the cashpoint", why don't you just scream like a girl until the the hired thug runs away? Why do people actually take the requested money out of the machine and hand it over?
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 11:59, closed)