A few weeks ago I piled onto a bus in Brixton with ten other young, drunk people at 2am. I had been waiting for thirty minutes, alone, for an Uber which had cancelled on me three times before the price inexplicably doubled. On the bus the man next to me gently drooled onto my shoulder and no amount of shoulder-jerking would displace him. Forty-five minutes later I arrived home, having spent almost one hundred pounds on this night. Filled with regret, I realised: this just isn’t fun anymore.
The days of a good night out are over. Bars and clubs frequented pre-2020 are beyond recognition. One in five nightclubs have closed since the pandemic and those that remain have become busier and more expensive, making it almost impossible to gain entry anywhere after midnight.
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