The University of Sunderland 1992 - 1995

It was at a club called The Blue Monkey, a fantastic place that was regularly being closed and burnt down by the council and the club’s competitors - allegedly. I’d had a great night as far as I could remember but come the end of it my friends had thought that I’d gone home and after a couple of moments of looking, left too themselves.

I woke up at about half past four in all but pitch darkness with the emergency lighting casting an eerily faint wash of blue light across the floor. I was in the gentlemen’s toilets - although it took me a good few moments to realise that. I was alone. I was cold. And I was still pretty pissed.

Being locked into a nightclub after everyone’s gone home is a rather surreal experience. Since I was still in a state of vague inebriation, although I found the incident a little funny I was also concerned that I may have set off the silent alarms and would soon be bundled into a police car to have an extremely unpleasant time indeed. I needed to get out and I needed to do so rather quickly. I didn’t fancy a pint.

Each of the exits were locked with chains making them even more secure. They were also padlocked and as I zigzagged from one to the next confusion gave way to a certain amount of booze-induced panic. How I’d explain myself to the Old Bill as they tackled me to the floor, cuffed me and hurled me into the back of a van to Page 5