OK, so it was Xmas Meal yesterday, and after an afternoon's intoxication, it appears Mr Manager thought it would be a good idea to hire Sin-Sin's.
Naturally, I thought the softcore sex shop had launched it's own nightclub, and it would be a bevvy of basque'd beauties, all decked out in Summer frocks and other erotic ladywear. PVC Sexy Mistress Claws and all that.
So, we gets there... and it wasn't on St Bendy-dicks as it used to be. Clearly, they've moved down Prisoner of War road, to take on the Norwich Clubland.
Anyhew, we enter... and the place looks suspiciously like a brothel (based on what I've seem on The Bill).
And then we're lured into The Cellar by the Door Dolly (closely followed stereotypical The Bill type seedy weedy pornographer), where red lighting lights dingy corridors with small cells leading off. ..
And then we're split into 2 groups and ushered into a small cubicle, with padded walls and a telly, and some form of cushioned couch (bed?). Hmmm... looking more and more like some CD sex show booth, with live streaming from another rooms onto the telly.
Hmmm... there seem to be a couple of King Dong pleasuring devices as well. Ah, technology - they has a pewter monitor to select your wanton trollop!
Wait a minute... Smack My Bitch Up? Surely I've not been lured into yet another punishment palace...
D'oh! Our mistake. The place is called Sing-Sing's, and the percieved Love Truncheons are microphones!
It's not Carry On Clubbing, or Let's Hire Carrie, OK?
It's a karaoke bar.
Good job we didn't proposition the pint pulling pretty then!
