Chinawhite, again.

I wake up. It’s the Saturday after that payday Friday. The time is 10:34, I have no hangover, there is no ounce of tiredness in me. Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I must have been the ONLY person that didn’t go out last night.

Which means that sadly, I have no wild stories of how I got another bachelor to give me his number or how he asked for my number but NEVER actually calls me.

What I can do, is tell you about the night I went to Chinawhite where Bruno Mars was meant to be hosting. I can do that, have another bite of last night’s pizza and chug down on the Guarana cordial that my lovely aunt brought all the way from Brazil with her! (Yay!)

The date was Wednesday 17th August, I was stressing out over what to wear to Chinawhite. I wanted to look cool and sexy but I also wanted Bruno to remember me if he spotted me. I opted for being noticed, which I have to admit, was far from sexy. *sigh*

I didn’t have anymore time to deliberate whether I looked okay or not because Nev and Dimples were here. So I grabbed my heels and made my way downstairs.

The heels that turned me into an Amazonian!
We drove into Central London, parked up nearby and strutted out stuff towards the club then we see the queue.

The queue was intense. I don’t even want to get into how the queue went around the corner and how I almost got into “a thing” with a drunk stupid cow who thought she could call me a mother fucker in Spanish and think that I wouldn’t understand her and more to the point, shout at her “EXCUSE ME, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?” My skin colour obviously came into very good use. The way her eyes widened, I’d say that she might have shit herself!

We were waiting FOREVER to get in, Dimples even managed to go to McDonalds, queue, get the food,come back and we were still in the same spot! This was not helped by the IRRITATING promoters for a club called Mereh? Mirror? who gives a shit? They kept saying, “You do know you aren’t going to get in? You might as well come with me.”

Well actually boy-child, NO, I didn’t know I wasn’t going to get in, otherwise I wouldn’t have come. Also, why would I want to go to your club when all the promoters are either shorter than me or uglier than Mercy from Eastenders? Explain that to me Adam Deacon lookalike. Go on.


So after much waiting and being lied to by a John Legend look-a-like, we eventually made it to the front-ish part of the queue. That’s right, not inside, but to the front-ISH part of the queue.

By now, we’ve met a Brazilian lesbian with a Jamaican lover, who, I have to say were very, very creepy. Entertaining, but creepy. They were complaining that their feet were killing them in their heels. ERM. Sweetheart, kitten heels aren’t heels. Those wedges from Shoe Zone aren’t cutting it either.

I was then told that I wasn’t Brazilian because I was black by a stupid stupid eastern European pervert who was IN the queue on his OWN smiling continuously at our trio. We kept being reminded that the John Legend bloke lied to us about trying to get us in with his party. I came to the conclusion, that he didn’t actually get in and he might have been promoting for that bloody Mereh club!

I’m dying in my “Amazonian” shoes, ready to go home, then all of a sudden the Paparazzi start to materialize out of nowhere! Ooh, Ooh, who might that be, might it be BRUNO!?!?!

Nope. It’s that small kid from JLS, Aston.
2/3 of Belle Amie, Blondie and the mixed race one.
Hugo from Made in Chelsea
Paije Richardson, another x-factor reject followed by the ever so dashing and somewhat up-himself Aiden Grimshaw.

…..I had lost all will to live, I was ready to leave the queue forever, but trust that particular moment in time for Bruno Mars and his entourage to arrive. I don’t get to see them. 😦 – but the silver lining is that Dimples and Nev did… I guess 2 out of 3 isn’t so bad. *dies*

Eventually we get in with the help from one of the security guards that address us to the crowd as journalists. *smug smile* and of course, we cannot forget the assistance from a lovely lady who said we were part of her group. (whoever you are, thank you.)

We head downstairs, head straight to the bar and order a stiff alcoholic beverage to take away the pain and trauma of the queue and the fact that Bruno, never showed me his Mars.

Amaretto & Coke, NO ICE. I start chugging it down, we find a spot, we start dancing, elbow knocked and the amaretto goes all over my white vest. ¬.¬ not. impressed.

We decide to move away from the gaggle of whores hanging around Aston’s table. We move onto the main dance floor and get our grooves on! Ooh, I see Aiden Grimshaw snogging the face of some brunette with hot pants on!

Aiden pisses off, we’re invited to take the table and end up partying the night away! Cannot complain at all. That was until I was dancing with some guy that gets knocked by some blonde plum, resulting in his JD & Coke spilling on my yellow skirt. Oh. F.F.SAKE. He apologizes, he gives me a drink, I forget it ever happened.

Add in the sneaking in to the VIP room, Bruno leaving the club after half an hour, Bruno’s Entourage dancing with us and Nev being offered champagne by one of owners and getting her dance on, it was definitely a night to remember, even if I didn’t get to see Bruno.

But before I go I want to just take a moment to discuss Chinawhite’s door policy for an event as “big” as this.

I have to say that there was a blonde on the door that seemed to be organising things. I say organising very lightly. She just seemed like she didn’t know what she was doing or couldn’t handle the amount of people who turned up that night. I have to say, what I previously had written down was a little harsh, so when reading it over, I thought, let me tone it down a little bit. What I do want to put out there is that for an event where a celebrity is hosting and a bunch of Z-list celebs are attending, you should have thought through the door policy a bit better because it didn’t actually matter that there was a guest list. Next time, how about next time you don’t allow THREE queues to form and don’t let in any Shoreditch looking dickhead through the door just because he gives you 3 kisses on the cheek whilst you make everyone else wait and pretend that you know what you are doing.

All that said, I do have to give credit to the Door Supervisors, they were entertaining and what seemed like swell guys! 🙂 praise to them.

Rant over. It was a good night, so let’s not the silly woman and queueing headache take away from the fact that Nev, Dimples and I had a really good time!

I now have a free house and I am going to play my music loud and eat more pizza.

(Ps. Xfactor is on tonight, which means I am definitely staying in tonight!) Enjoy your Bank Holiday Weekend everyone! ❤

x M x


Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: