Birdcage, The

Calling this place a club is a bit like calling one of those turkey twizzlers meat–a–likes a Sunday roast. The Birdcage is reminiscent of being left at the entrance of the bingo while your gran chats up the balding compere. It's the kind of place where a rendition of 'Hi Ho Silver Lining' turns into a full on sing–song and you expect to see that singer from 'Cruise Ship' thrilling the audience with her 'charms'. Astounding comedy potential though –if you're looking for somewhere to dance like a twat and end up with your trousers round your ankles, no–one will bat an eyelid if you do it here.

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