This midnight bar/club defies description, but since leaving this space blank is not a helpful option, we’ll give it a try. It’s perhaps wisest to put up a protective shield of inebriation to protect your sensitive eyes and neo-cortex before entering. The doorman will give you a once-over with a bloodshot, suspicious eye, but don’t mention that he looks like a cross between a baboon and a pit-bull terrier if you value your facial features.

The woman behind the bar looks like she has two widescreen TV sets for a pair of glasses, and the crowd consists of transgendered prostitutes looking for a customer and backpackers who are too stoned to notice a prominent Adam’s apple. A diminutive Turkish weightlifter awkwardly dances to crappy ’80s music with a blushing blond bombshell towering over him while a man wearing a beetroot for a nose rambles incoherently in the local patois while knocking back his jenever and beer.

That’s when you realize that you either have to sober up or dive headfirst into a booze-soaked bender. In any case, every other bar you’ll ever attend will be so much nicer compared to this…