We had reached out final destination of the day. Finally we were at Bunga Bunga. It went much better than last time I tried going there.
When in the past I've tried to describe the concept of Bunga Bunga to people, I've usually started with asking the people in question if they know Silvio Berlusconi. This is when I normally get the first odd look from whoever I'm explaining this concept to. I usually follow up with asking if they know about his silicon and limoncello infested sex parties. This normally causes a look of regret for even requesting the explanation in the first place. When I then proceed to tell them that Bunga Bunga is the term used to describe said parties, they usually take a step back in disgust thinking I am suggesting they should attend a swingers club.
I really need to stop telling people about Bunga Bunga.
Basically, it's tacky gone posh. It is in West London after all (said in glottal Chelsea accent). Think pizza and champagne, karaoke and Prada bag, trucker caps and Ferraris.
It was also the perfect venue for Camel's hen do. Kicking things off with table length pizza and bellinis, proudly wearing our yellow Bunga Bunga caps and singing karaoke may not sound fancy. But it was fabulous. And nothing but.
Most importantly, the future bride seemed to have had a great time. That adorable Camel laugh could easily be heard over the karaoke noise and that was during the dinner alone. By the time we brought out the cake, she reached whole new levels of finding things hilarious. Never have a girl been that excited to eat something in the shape of her own face before.
Following cake, and of course more wine, there was the dancing. In our own little corner of the club there was dancing like never before and there was no amount of sweat, blood or tears to end it. Although eventually they had to close. And we left, under silent protest.
Following what may just have been the most fun night of 2014, I landed myself in a cab home with Barbra and the Camel. Then I realised I don't live in West London. Oh well. Off to Camel and Bicycle Man's for some sleep it was. And possible the worst pasta I have ever eaten.
Now. Just bring on Sicily!
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| Possibly the greatest cake ever! |
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| Possibly the greatest apron ever. |
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| Possibly the only time of the day I saw the bride sit still for a second or two. |
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| Possibly the most important part of any party - the picking up the Camel. |
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