Emesis Nemesis
S was a geneticist of some sort with whom I shared a flat for a year. The nature of his work meant that at times he had to be in the lab over the weekends to tend an experiment. I vaguely heard him moving about that morning... and then...
"OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHICH ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DID THIS? FUCKING GET OUT HERE AND CLEAN IT UP NOW!"




What?

* * *

There is in Hull a club called Spiders. It is - or was - famed for its silly cocktails. To create their version of the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, you will need a pint glass. Into this, you throw a bit of ice. Then a shot each of vodka, Pernod, and Galliano. A dash of blackcurrant cordial, and a baby bottle of fresh orange juice. You top it up with dry cider, and charge £2.30 for the lot.

P, another flatmate that year, had also spent time living in Hull, and had also experienced and loved Spiders. So it seemed only right that we go to the pub on his birthday and recreate the experience for him. By the end of the evening, he was looking distinctly peaky. But we all managed to crawl home - we walked the two miles in an attempt to sober him up - and he collapsed into his bed.

* * *

I put my head around the door, amazed at the lack of a hangover. S was, by now, in the kitchen, making toast. R, a third flatmate, had also emerged wanting to know the reason for the noise.
"Was that you?" he demanded.
"What?"
"The toilet. I tell you, there's no way I'm using that until whoever did it cleans it up. And I fucking need a shit..."
Nice image. But I had only a minimal idea what he was talking about: nothing beyond an association of the toilet with filth.

S had by now deduced that the culprit of whatever the crime was must have been P, and was hammering on the door of his room. I, though, still lacked insight into the exact nature of this particular atrocity. I went to investigate. I opened the door.

The little room was caked in vomit. It wasn't that P had missed the bowl: he must have been standing up, and he must have done a full 360-degree rotation as the contents of his stomach had made their bid for freedom. It was as if someone had replaced his blood with sick, and then severed an artery. The guy had clearly turned into some sort of chunderfountain; a gushing spring of boke.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Remember that the PGGB had as in ingredient blackcurrant cordial? Running down the walls, splashed across the floor and - somehow - dripping from the ceiling, this surging tide of sick was bright, bright magenta.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 10:04, 11 replies)

yay! spiders
home of easy gothy women and terrifying cocktails. i think i was sick after every night out there.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 10:12, closed)

I have shameful suspicion that I might have been, too.
Is it still going? It's almost 12 years since I left Hull...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 10:15, closed)

dunno, i haven't been back since finishing uni there in 99
but i do know that every other (shit) club i remember is gone - LAs and Luckies, The Tower, Circus Circus, Oasis. I didn't think it was possible, but Hull has actually got a little bit more depressing.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 10:29, closed)

The loss of the Tower is, frankly, nothing to grievous...
And I never made it to LAs, Lucky's or Oasis. I stuck to Spiders, the Welly and the Adelphi.

Oh, and that place on Newland Ave. Can't remember what it was called...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 10:34, closed)

all of the above were grim
the adelphi was great though. pretty much the only truely decent club in hull. the rest were only good for drinking, falling over and waking up in someone else's bed. the tower was a bit stabby but you can't grumble at 20p a pint, even if it is watered down drip tray.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 11:14, closed)

I last went in there in 1998
I remember it being about a quid a pint and i think a short was 40p. The music was ace, girls in leather hot-pants and a black lacy bra, and on prod to boot. I don't ever remember there being any trouble at all, it was all just like a big house party.

Back in the 80s it was a punk bar, then it went a bit goth and rocker in the 90s. I've heard it's gone a bit downhill now which is a shame.

We ought to have a Hull bash and end up in there.

An unofficial site
www.arachnophilia.org.uk/

and this sums it up
www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Spiders%20Nightclub
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 15:06, closed)

I like the idea of a bash there.
And I like Arachnophilia!

And I can't believe that PGGBs are still so cheap... Though I doubt I'd survive more than one these days.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 9 Jan 2010, 13:12, closed)

Yup, still going strong!
Not that I've been lately of course, but I've got a friend that still goes every weekend.

Waterfront was always my favourite club.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 16:20, closed)

'Chunderfountain: a gushing spring of boke' is good
Have a click for that.
(Land of Green Ginger It's dreamy weather, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 11:59, closed)

Ah, Spiders!
Used to love that place, but one PGGB was enough to keep me pissed the entire night.......
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 16:18, closed)

I was chuckling my way down that,
then got to 'chunderfountain' and fell about laughing :)
nicely written
( The Great Architect is still waiting for his account to be deleted on, Sat 9 Jan 2010, 15:57, closed)