A haunt for large numbers of Oxford Brookes' students of the "Daddy just bought me another horse!" variety. A cramped, poorly decorated downstairs dance floor with appalling light fixtures. Makes [DTMs]? look classy by comparison. Upstairs is a wood, metal and brick monstrosity of a sit-down bar. The barman served my date for the evening two shots of tequila, despite my protestations, although admittedly so did the staff at the nearby and wonderful Moya - had I a stronger character, perhaps I'd have refused to drink one of them.
I've heard bad things about the bouncers, but I had absolutely no problem with them.
On the good side, this is the home to the University Indie music society club, Panic. On this night the customers are a very different crowd (sometimes with some of the other lot looking a bit confused).
So in summary:
- Populated by boys in nice shirts, worn untucked, with jeans, loafers, tragic (highlighted) haircuts, and their fake-tan-enabled polo-playing pashmina-wearing girlfriends who've just come back from surfing holidays in New Quay, sporting 'fashionable' 80s haircuts that their stylists overcharged them for
- Appalling decor
- Led to tequila induced madness