Club Rub does fun fetish better than anywhere else.

Ten years on and it's still rammed, raunchy and extremely RUDE. (Does Rub stand for rubber or right up yer bum? The debate continues.) The Club's deserved success is a combination of a loyal, lively crowd and hostess Kim's people and party skills, (plus pulchritude...). Check out her amusing, informative newsletter at http://www.club-rub.com for the latest info and you'll soon see why people want to be part of the positive pervery posse.

There's reasonable bar prices, helpful cloakroom and bar staff and unobtrusive security. It's glitzy yet unpretentious, they don't make the paying customers wait outside to create a buzz, or because over-ambitious plans or incompetence delayed the opening time. (How very rock'n'roll...)

The music is house for humans, much more soulful than your average dustbin clanging and the people dress to impress but not freakishly so. You don't have to be Salvador Dali on acid to put a costume together. There's no shortage of glamourpusses in rubber or innovative kink couture but anyone following the basic dress code will be welcome.

If you're a bloke looking for inspiration - males since the dawn of time have been too busy wrecking everything to dress up - just get some military or Police gear, which will flatter your body, unlike rubber gimpery, and is much more durable. As ever, trannies are extremely welcome, indeed they seem to be getting younger at Rub - maybe that's just the pervy Policepeople.

Speaking of law and order I watched as the expert Playpenz security team Dave and Annie (swoon...) looked after a woman who got her chemistry homework wrong, patiently and gently nursing her back to walking wounded status. You don't actually need anything illicit to enjoy a dance event. Here's veteran DJ Rising High reviewing his first ever dance event clean and sober. "Will this dreadful BANGING never stop? Who ARE these grinning imbeciles jumping up and down. No I do NOT want a hug. GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Back to stuff that will actually do you some good:
in the dungeon downstairs there's ample room for two or three couples to be whipping up a frenzy or slowly toasting proffered buns. When cheeky little minx Tank Girl is involved there's no finer view. Nearby is a curtained off harem area for couples who want to get cuddly and overall the club has almost as many nooks and crannies in which to misbehave as the human body itself. Incidentally, there shall be no nudity and no shagging. This be the law. And they mean it.

There's no rule against making new friends though and even I have managed to find several young and gorgeous trannies here, proof positive that even Grim Reaper look-alikes have a chance at Rub.
Despite being bi and arriving in a black leather cowboy hat and shiny boots I was surprised to be told that I ‘read' as straight, which would be news to the appalling teenagers in Kent who have decided unanimously that anyone not wearing football kit or a hoody must be gay. Should I tell them that gay clubs regularly run footie kit nights or that they lust after scally teens? (excuse me while I barf.) That might be even more incendiary than my customary riposte: fuck off. (I'm still polishing that one.)

3 a.m. consciousness may impede rational conversation but not the giving of foot massage, often the quickest way to please weary women in boots. It's also a good way to make an introduction. Sucking and kissing a Goddess's toes provides mutual sensual delight, and also ensures that the male comes out with fewer inanities than when he's putting his own foot in his mouth.

Glacial blonde beauty Mistress Diva finally took pity on me when I went into sub-slut mode, (the usual loved-up, brain dead shambles.). Thanks Ma'am, it was a privilege to massage a rare beauty who recently graced the cover of Forum magazine, (where I masquerade as Marissa Moon, providing one of the least inaccurate transgendered astrology columns in the business.)

If anyone is considering fetish clubbing for the first time, and is perhaps concerned about fashion snobbery or online ogres tediously flaunting their personality disorders, just come along. (After reading the dress code and etiquette advice) You are likely to find a warm welcome here.

So here's to many more years down at Duke's.
Fresh, funky, frolicsome - fuck it, just go and see for yourself.