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Flash bars starred

Fashion's Mr Fashion, and AOY's resident guru for all things expensively transient, Dean Havinett dons his flouro-snood and reports on London's hippest joints to drink, be seen, and be seen drinking.

CLENCH

A bar picSituated on one of London’s busiest intersections, Clench can only be accessed by pedestrian footbridge. This is only the first of a dizzying array of ultra-trendy renovations undertaken by owner Jean-Hugo Floriard over the last six months. The upstairs bar, formerly made of marbles, has been completely removed and replaced by an electric fence, the walls have been lengthened to accommodate giant projections of a dalmation retrieving a balloon full of biscuits from inside a cello, and the seating area has been converted into a dancefloor – with the original armchairs still in place. The resident groove-peddler, DJ Constantine, spews forth an erotic blend of industrial bulb-tech & knee-jerk funk sludge till the early hours, attracting a lively crowd of urban gloop-freaks and wasted gasboys. Life-affirming and highly recommended.

LOOM-IN-ESSENCE

In this bar I mostly drank too much vodka

This opulent lounge bar has quickly established itself as the ultimate post-club hangout, combining a near-dark interior with décor synthesised from hot fudge and blankets. The intimate vibe is further enhanced by the complete lack of staff - all services are provided by robots converted from old vacuum cleaners. Even the bouncers are automated - malfunctioning dodgem cars full of bricks, which ensure that anyone not suitably chillaxed gets refused entry and bundled into a skip. Each night in the main bar, performance artist Maggie 7 unleashes multiple pots of paint on the walls. Stoned wastrels are invited to watch it dry from a special viewing platform. For those seeking a little more stimulation, the back bar offers complimentary green tea accessed from ceiling hoses while the latest smudge-jazz remixes are pumped subliminally into the cerebral cortex. The perfect environment in which to embrace one’s hangover.

NOGGIN

All beer and no pay makes photographer very woozyThe price of an admission ticket will gain you entry to one of the capital’s hippest joints: Noggin. Converted from a disused warship, this cavernous drinking hull has become increasingly popular with local criminals and celebrities alike - all of them beguiled by the imaginative use of original features and the promise of cheap booze. At 10pm, the slope of the dancefloor starts to increase by one degree each minute. By 11.30, it has become a dividing wall, separating the bar from a large dancefloor-sized area of machinery, affectionately known by the regulars as “the counterweight.” Hardcore party mongerers, typically sporting Fanuccini jerkins and Xanc cutlery, can slug phials of pure ethanol in this area till 5am, when the dancefloor swiftly closes in on them. Last week, Cindy Fornicade, the popular host of ITV’s So You Think You Can Host a Game Show?, was found mashed in cog no. 6 with a half-slurped Ditchbeast still in her hand. A startling and unique venue.

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