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Valentine's weekend is when custom dictates you get out yer best slacks, put a rose between your teeth and romance 'the stone'. That sort of behaviour is certainly appropriate for some. But maybe not for others.

So for us, we journeyed south of the river to visit notorious Vauxhall hot spot, The Eagle for their Saturday night do Carpet Burn. I may have been slightly naive regarding the title of the night before I entered. But that bubble of stupidity was popped by stepping inside the Eagle's guts. Room odouriser for sale at the cloakroom from a chap with a tache. Erasure on the soundsystem. Kiss the wrist, smell the wrist.



Despite the music veering into Student Saturday night town, manning up (so to speak) was the order of the day. As it stretched on deep into Sunday morning, afternoon and evening. We left Brixton at 6.30pm prompt.

Sunday eve was spent proving manning up doesn't have to come wrapped in a vest. Grunge and fish and chips proved to be suitably sufficient...