10 Species to Spot at a Dubstep Night

Find all ten and win a rubber stamp mark on your wrist that will never come off. EVER!

1 The Whiteboy Dreads Nothing seems to bring the fairtrade krusties out in force like a good old fashioned dubstep night. Apparently it’s the noise of broken chainsaws, malfunctioning industrial blenders, exploding fax machines and other sounds loosely associated with work (something the trust fund sadly excludes one from enjoying) that gets them all excited and ready for a groove on a sticky dance floor. A word of warning, these creatures have a tendency to get shirtless.

                  

2 The Party Girl Pretending To Enjoy Herself This species comes in several varieties, but whether they are hipster, Friend-of-Dread (FoD) or magazine editor/blogger the result is always the same. Behind the moody expression and fashionable outfit there is a pair of sad eyes desperate to be anywhere else. Watching them quietly suffer can make you feel as though you are in a Smiths song. Just without the Johnny Mar melody. Or the Morrisey warbling. Or Andy Rourke rolling bass lines. Get in quick ‘cos these chicks aren’t sticking round for the encore.

3 The Pill Junkie This one is actually really easy to spot. Just scan the room for a sweaty, gurning Neanderthal flailing their arms around like a new born baby on the roof of a hot car. Narrow it down? Not really. But look more closely. Amongst the ravers who appear to be struggling to throw a steady Sieg Heil! due to the effects of early-onset Parkinson’s disease, you may spot the odd fellow dancing away to a completely different rhythm. After popping enough pills to raise a corpse, this specimen’s brain has simply rejected his environment. He is now back in Ibiza 1996, dancing on a beach and wearing those shit round sunglasses that Lady Gaga has brought back into fashion. Acid on the rocks?

4 The Lothario You have to give this guy some credit. He was going to stay at home tonight and save his energy for the schoolgirl party tomorrow. But his penis had other plans. ‘I’m staying in!’ said the Lothario. ‘But why?’ begged his penis. ‘Because it’s a dubstep party, no-one gets laid at dubstep.’ said the Lothario, putting his foot down for once. But the next thing he knew, he was mingling around the fringes of the dance floor, wearing a pair of side pipe jeans and drenched in Paco Rabanne aftershave. Some people just can’t stop giving.

5 The Ageing hippie The name of this specimen may be misleading. He is not your average lifelong hippy. Those guys are so confused by acid flashbacks that they are too busy trying to peel an imaginary hash pancake off the ceiling of their living room. This group is more the wife-left-me-for-the-mailman-so-im-going-back-to-the-good-old-days type of ageing hippie. And your friendly neighbourhood dubstep party is exactly the place to throw on a pair of psychedelic sunglasses and get back to your youth. And they are the perfect customer for group 6…

6 The Drug Dealer More so than most clubs, the dubstep drug dealer is most likely to be found hanging out by the toilets. The reason being that on the dance floor, no matter how loud you shout ‘DO YOU WANT SOME DRUGS’ you will inevitably be drowned out by the unsynchronised robotic fart noises emanating at 5 million decibels from the PA speakers. And the naive desperation of the ageing hippie is exactly what will pay the bills this week. ‘I’ve got these new drugs, yeah. Look like Tic Tacs, smell like Tick Tacs, taste like Tic Tacs, and they cost $40 each. And a guy as cool as you should take at least 5. Cash only, yeah’.

7 You

8 Where’s Wally Like our Lothario, Wally had planned to stay in tonight. His days of being seen everywhere were behind him. A whole evening of watching of Friends DVDs and ironing stripy red and white tops and gay little matching hats lay ahead. But then a call from Tintin changed everything. ‘You’ve got to come out man,’ said Tintin, ‘Asterisk and Obelix have got back together, we’re all going to dubstep to celebrate!’ ‘I dunno’, said Wally, polishing his John Lennon specs. ‘Come on, it’s gonna be banging!’ screamed Tinitin down the phone. ‘I’ve got Snowy with me’.

9 More Dreads. It appears somebody has left the gate at the zoo open. These things are now everywhere, grazing on plastic beer glasses and performing campfire rituals around the DJ booth. I can feel a stampede brewing. Someone call the World Health Organisation. Or at least give me a Stetson and a lasso.

10 The Drunk Lost Guy Trying To Get home Many a great man has in his day attempted to overcome adversity with alcohol. The philosophy is as follows; This situation is not to my taste, I will improve it by adding booze. But the dubstep venue can be a labyrinth. You left a trail of breadcrumbs back to the exit but the Dreads ate them all. Are you on the dance floor, or in the toilets? Is it the girls, or the boys? Nobody can quite tell. You’re on your own son. You’re on your own…

PS. If this is me please find the name tag and address attached to my wrist and return me in a taxi

 

by Beirut Beat