Champagne Terry
I know friend-of-a-friend stories don't carry much weight in terms of credibility, but my friend does tell this story about his friend to anybody who fancies a laugh, so I thought I'd share it with you. All names altered to protect the innocent and the downright stupid.

So, it was Terry's birthday, begins Jon, Terry being a colleague from his old job, and one of those irritating twats who likes to act like a "Lad," despite actually being the sort of pathetic sod who'd panic, lose the power of speech and probably simultaneously spluff his pants if a young lady actually came and spoke to him. Being a "Lad," of course, when the question was raised of what he was doing to mark his birthday, he answered,
"Going for a night out in Soho." (He may have added 'innit' to the end of this, but as I say, I wasn't there.)
Reluctantly Jon accompanies the brigade heading down to Soho. It's going to involve a lot of expensive alcohol in places that will either be trendy and twattish, or incredibly seedy and full of transvestites that Terry has mistaken for real women, but at the same time, it his the feller's birthday.

After several drinks in several bars, last orders is called. Do people want to call it a night (as many look at their wallets and wince), or do people want to go somewhere else? A few disperse, a few stay. Terry has decided it's time they went to a strip club.

In the middle of Soho, as they were, it is not hard to find a place in which women can be persuaded to remove their already scant clothing in exchange for bits of paper with Her Majesty's face on. (Some may even accept loose change, I don't know) Unsurprisingly they walk past several such premises.
"Terry, what about this one?"
"No, mate, follow me, I know a really good one. Think it's just down this way."

So they go down this way. Then that way. And then the other. And back the way they've just come. And then that way...and then eventually away from the bright lights and gratuitous sexual imagery down a soggy, poorly lit alleyway. Terry leads them an unmarked but rather secure-looking door. The others exchange confused, even worried glances. From the description I had, you could be forgiven for thinking they'd wandered onto the set of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, particularly when Terry's knock on the door is greeted by a hatch opening in the top of the door, through which an irritable looking doorman stares down at Terry.

After haggling to some success over an exorbitant entrance fee, they are welcomed in through the door and into a strip club that even the strip clubs they passed by would look down on as seedy.

Noting, in between brushing flakes of falling plaster off their shoulders, that all the drinks cost a small fortune, they buy the cheapest bottles of shite lager available and sit down round a table. It is not long before a scantily-clad lady saunters not-all-that-seductively over to their table and tries to entice one of them into accepting a lapdance. The rest of the group try to decline politely. Terry, on the other hand, is right up for it.

She sits down on his lap and jiggles about a bit.
"Would you like to buy me a drink?" She whispers in his ear.
"Sure, what would you like?" He replies as the others stare at him with the sort of expression that is normally intended to read "NO! DON'T! SHE'S JUST TRYING TO - OH, YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO DO IT AREN'T YOU? YOU'RE AN IDIOT."
Such expressions were well-founded, as, at her suggestion, Terry ordered a bottle of champagne. The bottle is bought over to the table, as is the credit card machine, to spare him the inconvenience of having to ask this beauty to vacate his lap so he might head to the bar to exchange some £150 for a cheap bottle of Cava.

By now, the rest of them are feeling very awkward, as Terry and his female entertainer share this bottle of Lidl's finest bubbly. When she suggests they order a second bottle, the worried expressions are repeated, and followed by extensive facepalming as the card machine once again arrives at the table to suck another £150 out of Terry's account.

Over the course of this bottle, things seem to get a little more raunchy between Terry and his stripper. Just in case there was any doubt, she leans to Jon, and giggles in his ear,
"He's fingering me."
Jon shudders as Terry and his new friend drain a second bottle. Time for a third, maybe? Well, Terry obviously didn't want his fingers to dry out. Unfortunately, this time round, his card is declined.

Third time lucky? Most sensible people would have taken this a sign that it was probably time to stop buying extortionately-priced bottles of fizzy wine. But Terry was drunk, and knuckle-deep in the psiren sitting on his lap. Through his drunken, sex-crazed haze, Terry had a flash of inspiration. He briefly left the club and hot-footed it to the nearest cashpoint to withdraw a large wad of cash with which to purchase a third bottle.

By the time this hideously embarrassing spectacle finishes, Terry has missed his last train home and so comes back to Jon's to crash on his sofa. Jon wakes up the following morning with a murderous hangover and a somewhat addled recollection of the night's event, when he spots three receipts on the kitchen table.
Oh, fuck...how did I spend £450 last night? What was I doing?...Oh. Hang on. That's not my card number...

Jon goes into the living room, prods Terry and pushes the receipts under his nose. Apparently the poor chap's expression was priceless. Which is ironic.
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 16:12, 3 replies)

Think I'll wait for the film.....
Won't waste as much of my precious time when I'm pretending to work.
(Barnetboy, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 17:04, closed)

I'm pretty sure this
descries the experience of every single person who ever went into one of those places in Soho.

They're absolutely notorious for it. I jus thought it was unsuspecting foreigners who usually fell for it.
( Not Pineapple anymore, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 17:23, closed)

Well
This unsuspecting foreigner certainly won't. Phew

P.S. clicky for that last line mr TSC
(lemonadegame, Wed 6 Oct 2010, 22:21, closed)