I arrived in the London on Tuesday. TG's night was billed as Saturday, giving me ample time to catch up, do the family thing, and readjust to the eight hour time difference.

The only problem with weekends is that they tend to start on a Friday night, especially when you haven't seen a certain party animal since my wedding bender in Vegas. I rang Tiamanda Friday afternoon and we arranged to meet up for a bottle of wine in a quiet pub. It would be a good chance to catch up on gossip. This was not to be a big affair. If all went to plan I would take a leisurely Tube home, and we would both be tucked up in bed by eleven thirty at the latest. (In our own beds you filthy pervs!)

The first part of our evening went swimmingly. We found a traditional British pub and sat down in the back corner with a nice warming bottle of merlot and 40 Silk Cut. The wine flowed, and the air was filled with a mixture of smoky chatter. The second part of the evening had a feeling of deja-vu. It was almost exactly the same as the first, only differences being another pub and another bottle of wine. The talk was fluid; we were oblivious of our surroundings.

The night flew as it does when you are having fun. The last order bell rang. Pub goers all over London got one last round in. Soon most would be on their way to curry houses, pizza palaces, and kebab shops; a booze zombie exodus towards grease ridden fast food. That's what I should have done, but I can't say that Tia and I are very smart with a couple of bottles of wine in us. We tend to act more like brain damaged teenagers with credit cards. After a few slurred phone calls we were soon making our way to slave retardo’s house where he was kind enough to hold a spur of the moment party.

I will not go into details about the debauchery and torture that went on at that party. (This piece is supposed to be about my night out at TG and I have already rambled enough.) Suffice to say, I crawled out of a cab and into to bath at 9am, stinking like a nursing mother after getting caught in the cross fire of Tia's fresh cream food fight with retardo.

I lay in the tepid water rigid with anger at my inability to act like a fucking adult for once. I kicked myself for not only going along with the night, but for being one of the main ring leaders, and the third from last to leave. Bad going considering one of the other two was retardo, who was hosting the party, and the other person was a girl he had made erotic connections with. They were both on heat, all over each other. I had to leave or the rampant pups would have started humping on the sofa, the one I was sitting on.

Still, I had had a great night and a full twelve hours to recover and meet up at our arranged rendezvous. After a quick once over with a body buffer and some shower gel I rinsed off, dried down and slid into bed. I lay still staring at the TV, which was muted and timed to go off in half an hour. A kids program flickered on the screen. These days anything to do with kids bored me something chronic, so I was soon totally relaxed and slipping into a deep, coma like sleep.

I woke up at 3 in the afternoon, feeling pretty much the same as the night before. The day was spend flat on my back, trying to rest as much as possible, praying for the first time in years. If there really was a God then now was the time I needed him most. I ate three greasy takeaways at timed intervals and by 9:00pm I had just finished a very optimistic telephone conversation with Tia about how I was feeling almost human after a nice hot bath.

But tides change and moods do too, sometime at the mere bat of an eye. I placed the phone on the bed, and then had an uncontrollable urge to lay down, only for a second, to clear my head which all of a sudden was fogging over.

I woke up hours later. It took me a few seconds to familiarising myself with my surroundings. I looked down at my sprawled body, dressed in party clothes. It was then that I remembered where I should have been; where I had looked forward to going for almost a year! It was dark and silent outside, no hint of what the time might be. I fumbled around on the floor for my watch. Squinting at the face I saw that it was only 1am. I was immediately invigorated, a feeling of elation, like Scrooge on Christmas morning when he realized there was still time.

I sprang up off the bed, turned the light on and looked at myself in the mirror. Hardly a hair on my head had moved, and my clothes were wrinkle free. All seemed good. There was one small niggling problem: It had been kind of important for me to meet up as planned before this big night out as I hadn't took the trouble to find out exactly where the venue was. I knew it was in King Cross and I had an instinctual feeling the club might be called the Scala. None of this helped however, as even if I knew for sure where TG was, I didn't have a mobile phone.

The walk to a Tottenham cab rank isn't fun in daylight, but at night it is full of violent perils. The streets of Tottenham in the graveyard hours are for the dead and those who wish to be. There was no way I was going out there alone, not without a gun. I put my thinking cap on. 'Think, think, think,' I though. Then I heard a door downstairs click shut and footsteps. It was, Justin, the friend I am staying with. I had assumed he was sleeping, or out, but no, thankfully he was up late to check highlights of a football match.

Justin offered to walk with me to the cab rank as his phone was on the blink, but then he had an even better idea. He ran around the corner to his mum's house to ring one, giving me a few extra valuable minutes to check I had everything.

1 am is a very good time to ring a cab. It arrived before Justin got back, and I was soon speeding my way to club Scala, confident that it was the right club. Once the cab pulled up it became obvious that my intuition had served me well. The street outside was peppered with fetish looking people. I paid the driver and darted inside.

The place was packed tight, the two lower floors heated by the enthusiastic energy and sweat of those dancing. I walked around for a while looking for familiar faces but didn't see any. I know the fetish scene can be a transient environment, but bloody hell, surely there must be a few old faces rattling around the join, but no. I wandered precariously on my extremely high heels and couldn't find a single soul. It didn't matter one bit.

My brain was being fed a visual treat, the likes of which it hadn't experienced in quite some time. There are not many places in the world where you can go and see such a multitude of styles and fashions in so many different types of fabrics and materials, worn by a mixture of people from all over the world. Everyone looked fabulous, well everyone except the guy in the unibomber mask and a pair of Y fronts. I wonder if he covered his face because he was famous and didn't want to be recognized. More likely he did it because he was totally embarrassed about wearing his skivvies in public that he couldn't bare to show his face.

I scanned the dance area from the second floor balcony. It was hard to focus on the bobbing heads so I opened my eye and tried to take the whole picture in. Time away from the UK had given me a whole new appreciation towards London night life. The visuals at TG were always good, but tonight as I looked at the many screens scattered around the venue it seemed spectacular. Beautiful macabre images, artistic and raunchy played on the many screens, constantly changing.

A voice came over the speakers announcing Allen TG's set. A logo of his name scrolled and twisted on a big screen to the right of the DJ stand. As he let the first record slip into action, the crowd roared and the atmosphere physically lifted. I experienced a natural rush, my body suddenly smothered in goose bumps. It felt good to be alive. I absorbed myself in the music for quiet some time. I was finally drawn away from the boogieing by the spirit of Jack Daniels.

There was one last area to check: the dungeon. It was not hard to find and the room was cool; a welcome relief. I soon spotted a very familiar looking backside and when I gave is a friendly tap, Miss Goth turned around, slightly perturbed until she saw it was only little old Mistress Feral. She had a bevy of subbies, and very good looking they were. (I may have to ship a few British subs out to the States if I can find a suitable slave soon.)

Goth was busy, halfway through a scene, so I stroll around the dungeon looking for the infamous Tiamanda. She was nowhere to be seen. I tottered over to the bar in my 8inch heels and ordered a drink. I felt amazingly awake, almost too much so. There was just too much clarity and it didn't feel right. It was time to get messed up again so that I would have something to do with my Sunday: recover! After all, I was on holiday. I sat down to rest my feet and thought how nice it would be to have a foot slave to rub them better for me. Before I had time to complete the thought a guy threw himself at my feet and begged me to let him massage them.

'Oh, go on then, if you must.'

I laid back and let him work his magic. Half an hour later he managed to get my circulation system working smoothly again. I thanked him and with a drink in hand I made my way back downstairs. The heat built as I descended through the building. I found a cool corner and stood there awhile composing myself, using an erotic House of Harlot flyer as a fan. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was someone I know from LA. Typical, the only person I could find was a new friend from halfway across the world.

And like busses, once one comes, they all start arriving. Best of all I ran into the gorgeous Eva Vortex and her perked twins. I swear those girls are getting bigger each year. I commented on them and a passerby butted in.

'Yes, I noticed your tits too,' he said, (like you could miss them!) 'and very nice they are, indeed. Mind if I touch them?'

'Yes, I do mind. But Feral can touch them if she likes.'

Before I knew where I was my hands were resting on Eva's nuclear reactors (built to withstand an airplane impact). By now I was staring to feel really at home. The cheery on top of the cake came in the shape of the lovely Tiamanda. She tottered towards me, as bubbly as a bottle of Bolle' and we were soon back in the dance area busting a few disco moves.

I checked my watch, only one hour more and the club would be closed. I had given off the impression to Tia that I would be going onto Stunners, but now it didn't seem like a smart idea.

It is official: I am finally growing up, or old…whatever. All I could think about was getting stranded at Limehouse Sunday lunchtime, foggy headed and having to walk in broad daylight in my party clothes. Everyone else would be clear headed, dressed in their Sunday best. Then there were the three trains I would have to take, not to mention the 15 minute walk through a Tottenham park, dodging footballs and wolf whistles. All I wanted was to go home, smoke some weed, and get so more delicious sleep.

I decided it would be grown up of me to let Tia know right away that I wouldn't be joining her at Stunners. That way I could relax, enjoy the last hour of TG and then speed home in a cab under the cover of darkness. Tia took the tragic news of my early departure much better than I thought she would.

'Whatever! Am I bothered, though? Does my face look bothered?'

She said all of this while dancing, her hands tightly clenched in fists, bopping to the music. Dancing has always been very infectious to me, so it was no surprise when I caught the jitter-bug from Tia. Like Sisters Sledge we were lost in music, caught in a trap; not turning back, so lost in the music it was like sleeping on our feet.

It was soon time to fetch our bags. The street outside was still dark, crowds of people saying their goodbyes, waiting for cabs, with streams of others walking away from the club. Caring to the end, Tia stationed me next to a guy with the clip board. My name was put on a list for a registered cab and then she minced off amongst the departing crowd, her stiletto heels clanging against the concrete ground, I had a fleeting thought to run and catch up with her but the adult in me was in charge tonight and I was thankful once home and tucked up in bed with a neat joint and a naughty video.