An English Strippers guide to Lapdancing Clubs to visit during the 2012 London Olympics

After a day of watching gorgeous honed athletic bodies in lycra why quit?

London is hosting the Olympics this year and has sold 10.8 million tickets to the various Olympic and Paralympic events.

That's a lot of people in London who want to be entertained!

Luckily the city of London has a rich seam of entertainment for tourists to mine, including lap dancing clubs.  The first stripclub in London was the Windmill which opened in the 1930s, although nude girls had to stand completely still in tableau form.  Luckily attitudes have changed since then and gentleman's establishments are now fully nude, with alcohol, and are available to the discerning male or female viewer.  Many also offer food, live stage shows, and the option to buy dance tokens discreetly using your credit or debit cards.  The average price of a dance is £20 per song, the price of VIP varies from £100 to £500 an hour, and some clubs are free, others charge an entrance of up to £20 per person.  If you click on my links below you will be directed to the club's own site and many offer the option to print discount entry vouchers.

If you are visting London for the Olympics I would definitely recommend putting a stripclub visit on your Olympic itinerary.  Here are my top 10 stripclubs to visit during the Olympics 2012.

West End

In the heart of bustling Leicester Square, famous for film premieres and casinos, is the relatively new-comer, Platinum Lace.  Run by the former boss of Spearmint Rhino, it has quickly established a reputation for being able to host glitzy parties and has won serveral industry awards.  It is open from 3pm till 6am every day of the week, (although it shuts at 3am on Sundays)  It has several stages, more women than you could shake a stick at and a separate VIP lounge for large parties.  They will probably be showing some Olympic athletic sport on a big screen for special heats.

The most famous gentleman's club in the West End is undoubtedly Stringfellows - it is run by Peter Stringfellow who has become a celebrity in his own right and is famous for having both a high calibre of girls and clientèle.  It is based in historic Covent Garden, is open till 4:30, although rumour has it that they have an extended licence till 6am for the Olympic summer season, and has a top notch restaurant serving an excellent steak.  However, it is a classy and sophsticated club based on VIP dance packages so smart dress and money to burn are essential.

The original striptease establishment, the Windmill, is based in Soho.  It has a fantastic double height pole on its stage and is open till 5:30am.

Up the road is the infamous Spearmint Rhino, a global chain of decadence which has outposts in the USA and Australia.  It is packed to the rafters with hot women and throws some excellent shows on the weekend, with fire and burlesque dancers adding some excitement.  It seems to be the club which keeps on giving, as it has special drink offers throughout the week and long opening hours from midday till 4am, although on the weekends it opens at 6pm.

With several branches across London, Secrets is definitely good to know.  They even have a branch opposite Euston, so if your train at Euston or nearby Kings Cross/St Pancras is delayed, you know where to wait.  I wager that the transport and traffic in London will not be running 100% smoothly during the London Olympics, so a few dances in the company of beautiful women from all over the world should help ease the annoyance.

East London

The Olympic village itself is based in Stratford, East London, and there are plenty of establishments to choose from.

The biggest is For Your Eyes Only, which has a whopping 40 VIP and champagne lounges, so no matter how many people come to visit, there will always be room for you.  Like Secrets, they are based in the city - London's equivalent of Wall Street.

Can't be bothered to go far? Majingo's - no, I don't know what the name stands for either - is based in the Dockland's, so is a mere mile as the crow flies from the stadium itself.  It's open from 6 till 3.

For those that prefer the traditional route, the East End has a long and fine tradition of 'pound in the pint glass' strip pubs - YES PUBS!  Try Brown's or The Griffin Here you simply sit down on a bar stool, nursing some brown ale in nice cold glass, and watch the excellent stage shows, before tipping the dancer a minimum of a pound afterwards (more if she's rocking the pole).  The dancer's will circulate around the club with a pint glass collecting coins and notes after their stage set, and may also offer private dances for the customary score (£20).  Also in Shoreditch is The White Horse which is open till midnight, 1am on weekends, and has free entry. All three strip pubs mentioned also have big TV screens so you won't miss any sporting highlights.....

Last but certainly not least, Metropolis has three floors with some really unique dance areas including a beach, a car wash and a sultan's harem.  I'm not kidding.

I hope that you find my guide to lapdancing bars and stripclubs to visit during the Olympics useful, although remember I am more used to being a lapdancer than a punter! I'd really love to hear from anybody who visits/works at these clubs whilst visiting London for the Olympics, so please leave your thoughts in the comments box.  Let's get it going for gold!

This article was originally published on my new site http://www.londonlapdancer.com/

Please visit for even more resources on lapdancing in London and all over the world!

Partying through the Jubilee weekend

London erupted in a flurry of street parties this weekend and I danced in every single one of them.

I wore a red and white outfit with matching red and white underwear and a glittery tiara on top.
I gobbled down BBQ sticky chicken and licked my fingers clean afterwards.
I took huge bites from fancy cupcakes, icing sticking to my chin.
I danced in the streets as ghettoblasters pumped out tunes - funky house, soulful reggae, singalong favourites.
I flashed smiles and talked to men and introduced myself by my real name to everyone of them.

It felt great, and whilst I'm nursing bruises and a battered bank balance, I'm sat at this computer with a dopey grin on my face, patting myself on the back for ensuring that I had this weekend off.  When I stared at my calender last week, and realised that I was rota'd to spin around a pole and flash my privates to tourists and stag parties on what was the biggest weekend my fair city had hosted in my living memory, I blanched.
I felt scared and worried - I'd been in that position before, when I worked shifts and didn't know any of the girls, felt the pull of celebrations happening elsewhere, and had to make friends for the night with the friendliest looking faces in the club - if there were any that is.
So I bit my lip, took a deep breath, and walked into the manager's office to discuss my schedule.
And promptly got out of it - by hook and by crook.

When I first started dancing, I used to pick the world's worst schedules.

I'd work a tuesday and wednesday night, get really drunk, wake up with a hangover and then drink red wine in front of the telly for a few days.

Then I'd panic as I realised it was the weekend already and I had no money and I'd be forced to work the Saturday night.  I'd stare longingly at my phone as it beeped away with text messages full of the great times my friends were having, as I pounded round the club like an animal in a cage, servicing stag party after stag party with their grabby hands and reeking beer breath.

Every Sunday I would swear to myself that I would work weekdays only and not let my little moments of laziness ruin my weekend.  What's the point in having friends if you can never get to see them?

But my problem was that I had too many friends, and there were always invites to this club night, a birthday house party, drinks after work... I really used to beat myself up over it - was I a perpetual student? How could I ruin my chance at saving the pennies and building a decent future if I couldn't even go earn the pounds?

I can't say that's changed much, but at least now I put myself first.
Most of the time...

Dejected & Rejected

Tonight was such a big knock to my confidence. I walked into the club nice and early with a spring in my step, feeling like a million dollars after the best haircut I've had all year.
But I missed out on several chances.
I also put the time in before getting passed over for another blonde.
There were several awards do's this evening and every stripclub in London was surely filled to the rafters with rich men bursting with party spirit.
I know mine was...
But I missed out, and steadily watched with rising trepidation as VIP booth after VIP booth got filled up with missed chances and their lucky girls. As more dancers got taken off the floor, the number of girls available for stage rotation decreased till the flood turned into a trickle and the same girls - us despondent band of rejects - were called up again and again.
I became one of them.
I couldn't, and still can't, believe it.
I felt impotent to the siren call of the DJ. Everytime I stepped onto a podium I could feel myself being dashed onto the rocks, my goodwill and good nature sacrificed in a suicidal mission to make the place look good to the few remaining losers who skulked the floor. The kind of guys who would be hard pushed for a lapdance, let alone 2.

As the night wore on, my shoe leather & patience wearing thinner with every step, I began to get terribly bored and despondent.
I turned from a sassy lapdancer with a brand new 'do to an unloved and unwanted showpony.
Call me irrational but I'm upset.
Upset at how my high expectations were torn apart so cruelly.
I left as soon as I could tonight and walked the streets of London soaking up the quiet.
Call me irrational but I was upset...
I tore off my fake lashes, falling tears had made the glue unstick. It was easy to rip them off, and it felt good. Like a weird cosmetic self-harm.
I glimpsed my reflection in the shop windows, all dark and closed for business at 3am.
I saw my slim figure, hunched, dwarfed by a bag bulging with so-called sexy gear and lucky pants.
My new blonde locks shined like a beacon under the streetlamps. I felt like tearing the stupid hair out, strand by strand.

I know, I know, you'll all be calling me irrational now, but I fell so far, and so hard, in just a matter of hours.

Dejected, I walked and walked until I found myself at Trafalgar Square. Grand edifices made of Portland stone and marble rose all around me. I lit a cigarette and cried.
The spray off the lion fountains looked like hot steam in the chilled night air.
I realized a haircut was not a panacea.
I resolved to do better.
I dried my eyes and went home.

There's always the next time....

No fighting on the floor

It's been a slow couple of weeks in London's lapdancing industry what with Halloween and Guy Fawkes both taking up the weekends, not to mention half term. Whose gonna end their night at a stripclub if you are carting your family around dressed as a Vampire?
Stripclubs aren't as catty as you might expect - it's a glorified sales floor after all, but when the going gets tough, us girls get our claws out...

Firstly, it's the powerful mixture of money, booze, and large groups of competing women. Most dancers will have a drink or two to warm them up at the beginning of their shift at say, 8 or 9 o'clock, and if there are no customers to talk to they will keep on slowly sipping away. Stripclubs are renowned for big double measures too...

Throw desperation into the mix and shit gets nasty. It's simple striponomics - every night a large number of girls do badly, but they still need to pay their rent, so they come in the next night too. Thus the amount of strippers increases till you get twice the normal amount on even the usually quiet Sunday,Monday,Tuesday shifts. That's a lot of girls hungry to hustle whoever walks through the door....

So I've seen a fair number of bitch fights recently. The scramble when a guy comes in has escalated into an Olympic sprint across the club, pushing & shoving is a daily occurrence, and everyone's complaining to the management that so-and-so is a greedy slapper.

It's quite amusing really. If you like the idea of half-naked wrestling girls, visit your local stripclub and wave a few pound notes into the air. You big tease!

My stripping buddy returns!

I'm very, very excited.

My stripping buddy, my favourite partner in crime, the girl that I just seem to make hustling magic happen with - IS BACK!!!!

Whoop!

She has spent the summer in Ibiza, which I'm sure must have been really difficult for her.  You know, the best nightclubs in the world, beautiful people on the beach, beautiful people in villa's, beautiful people getting wrecked......

She has come back looking gorgeous - tanned, skinny, .... and broke.

She's so hungry for money that she jumped straight on the phone to me to tell me to stop being such a lazy hippy and book into a shift with her.  In fact, when I told her how it had been lately at my stripclub - imagine slow, dead tumbleweed rolling between nests of empty tables, and desperate girls beginning to offer extra's - well, she told me that we should try somewhere else.

I love a bit of occasional stripper migration, so yeah, I might just fly the coop for the winter and tether my G-sring to another pole.  If I do make the leap, I'll be auditioning at a new club tomorrow and will tell you all about how it went in a juicy blog post.  Sorry, but the identity will have to be secret, as par usual....

The great thing about working in a city as big as London is that there are loads of clubs to choose from.  Most of them fully expect girls to move without warning, and there are auditions every week - every day - in a variety of clubs.  If you want, it's possible to switch jobs in 24 hours.

As long as I pass the audition that is......

How to stay healthy and eat safe during the London Riots

There are 3 things which always concern me - diet, personal safety and money.
Because the London Riots show no sign of abating any time soon, I've been forced to have a long hard think today on how I can stop the riots affecting me too much.

Let's explain;

• I live in South London, and work in the West End - riots have occurred in both places, and travel, especially late at night, will be difficult.  So it's best to stay at home, stay safe and take a few days off work if possible.
• However, I took last weekend off, and used most of my money to cover bills and rent last week, so I'm flat broke.  Can I risk going to work? Will anybody even be visiting stripclubs right now?  
• All of the shops have been told by police to shut early, so it will be difficult to get food, especially fresh - I'll need to bulk buy and plan my meals so that I stay away from frozen pizza and naughty foods!

Basically, I don't know how many nights it will be before the club will be both safe to work in and have enough punters for me to make any money. Remember, it costs ME to work - house fee, travel, accessories - around £60-100 a shift.

I also need to stay looking trim, as I'm stuck at home for the best part of the week - my gym is closed and it's not safe to jog round the park when gangs are congregating there.  

So I took action!  I went to the ATM and withdrew enough cash for a few days - well they will be empty if this carries on.  I then visited the local fruit and veg market and bulk bought enough fresh produce to tear my arms off - I balanced it all on the handlebars of my bike but it was still more than little ol'me could handle.  

So my week is looking like this;

roasted veg, cous cous & feta (cheap, long lasting produce that tastes amazing!)

homemade soups & chowder - this recipe only has a few ingredients

halloumi & olives - both keep well in the fridge

marinate a family pack of chicken drumsticks and freeze

dust off my yoga mat & do a youtube yoga class in my living room - this core strength one should do the trick

hula-hoop in my garden for cardio

Sunbathe in the garden too

Read the naughty doorstopper ; 'Juliette' by Marquis de Sade (this will keep my mojo up!)

As I write this, sirens are blaring up and down the streets near my house - I can hear 6 different types and cars. Shops all over London are boarded up. Stripclubs are shut - even Spearmint Rhino was evacuated last night (although Platinum Lace proudly tweeted that they were open!)  Who knows when I'll make money again? Or be able to pop out without fear?!

But at least I'll stay solvent and skinny....

London Riots - Bad news for London strippers!

I'm flabbergasted to note that this is my umpteenth post about riots and protests in London.  It seems that every other month there is a protest - the Slut Walk was a very positive empowering experience for me, the student protests in the West End were not as they shut down half the neighbourhood and turned it into a quiet night at work.
But this weekend we saw the start of riots across London. The full shocking extent can be found on this map here  but basically they started in Tottenham, North London, and further riots sprang up in several places, including Brixton and Oxford Circus.

I woke up hungover and at home today, looking forward to starting the working week with a nice, slow Monday night shift at the club.  But once again I'm apprehensive as;
a) nobody is going to visit a stripclub when riots happened across London yesterday.
b) especially when the riots included Oxford Circus and the West End.
c) getting a taxi home after work will be a nightmare.

I thought that I would take me mind off my hangover and the worrying events by taking a walk in the park, but the first thing I saw was this

The only reason why you would EVER find an empty box in a park for chrissakes for a top of the range 42" Plasma TV is because last night this happened;

(from the West Londoner blog, thanks)

I'm glad to say that I still enjoyed the walk in the park, but will just have to eat beans on toast until it calms down and people start partying in London again, as it's a gamble otherwise.  As a lapdancer, I have to pay a 'house fee' every night I work there, so if it's a quiet night, I may not make my money back.  I lose out twofold, my time and my money.  Riots in London are bad news for strippers as the club will be deserted, still at least its not happening during the busy Christmas season...

It's a LONG night in Mayfair

One of my stripping buddies took me out tonight to say thank you.
That was nice - or so I thought...

She had organised a table at Funky Buddha and a Queen room for the pair of us at the Mayfair hotel - we have been working together a lot recently and had made some great money, plus she had stayed at mine after, being an out-oftowner and all.

It was all going swimmingly.
We met up, had cocktails at the bar before popping into the room and helped each other get ready. We shared make-up, straightened and curled those stray bits of hair the other couldn't quite reach, tried on each others outfits, gave accessories advice....

We covered the smoke alarm with a shower cap and smoked out of the window as we drank a chilled bottle of room service Veuve Clicquot

Then, happy, buzzy and slightly stumbling we trotted across the road to Funky Buddha - where my girlie partner in crime promptly met an old flame.

That's when she got really, really drunk and it all began to go wrong

I savour my nights off, and nights out - usually I use my spare time to sit at home, get stoned and chill with pals over a dinner party or alone with a bottle of rioja and a box set.

So tonight felt like a real slap in the face. It was all going so well till a guy got in the way.  It's just that stripper nights out always carry this risk.

Dancers are generally neurotic, slightly asexual creatures - we insist on very high and exact standards in our men as we meet guys every night of our working lives.  many girls nurture and breed complexes - such as; 'don't tell me what to do', 'lets do THAT now', in 'THIS' way, and what can we get out of it, ad infinitum.

It's sad to help a fellow worker dry her tears in the toilet, as you try and make her understand that she is being spoilt and acting slightly odd and unhinged. If a guy comes on to her at a nightclub, she goes on the defensive - 'this is my night off, stop getting in my space', totally forgetting that this is what men do, all the time, everywhere, not just at work.

I'd love to sign off this post saying that I have learnt my lesson, but truth be told, I enjoy wild crazy nights out with beautiful, sexual and predoratory women just as much as anybody, so I'm sure it will happen again soon.

In fact, there is a night out planned next week with girls from Stringfellows, Spearmint Rhino and For  Your Eyes Only....

Marching down the Strand in my Knickers - The London Slut Walk 2011

It was a fantastic feeling to march down the Strand and into Trafalgar Square with my knickers on proud display during the London Slutwalk 2011.  The day itself, Saturday 11th June 2011, turned out to be a hot, sunny London summer day so was perfect weather to take your clothes off.
I shouted slogans, bonded with all types of activists, had a tear in my eye at the impassioned speakers and got thoroughly fired up at the all the crap society throws at us for being a girl (or gay/transgender/sex worker/rape victim - the list was long and the cause was loud).  I've spoken about the message behind the march in an earlier post, and I'll do so again, but for now I'll just comment on the day itself.
There were lot's of snap-happy photographers, and I must admit I had a fair few taken of me ( I had a fabulous outfit darlings).  However, as this blog is anonymous I'm afraid I can't show you a picture of me at the march, so instead here are a few snaps of my favourite London Slutwalkers;

These are old-school activists keeping it simple so that the strong message stands out.

 

 This Geisha uses her outfit to say her message for her - is this how we have to dress and act to not get raped or judged nowadays?

 The dominatrix in full length black latex must have been boiling in the sun, so along comes a nice blonde in pigtails to give her an icecream....

My favourite pair of the march.  Their inflatable cocks said "NO MEANS NO", note the shiny policeman's badge on their uniforms as a reference to the Canadian policeman's attitude which started the Slutwalk movement, and they were a really nice pair of guys from NYC to boot.  I had lots of fun camping around with them for a while before they left to go to Covent Garden to buy Baby Gaga breastmilk icecream.  As you do.....

I'm hoping the London Slutwalk is an annual thing - oh, and to top it off, the Naked Bike Ride went past us - TWICE!!!!

London Slut Walk - Stand up & be a slut

So I'm a stripper from London, and proud of it - but will I join those who say they are proud to be a slut in London?
The London Slut Walk is to be held on the 4th June 2011 by the way, if you feel like ambling along in fishnets under a subversively named banner through the streets of central London.  It sounds like it could be quite fun really - getting all dressed up in your finest sluttiest togs, a sun-filled day out with a gaggle of girls - but it has a deeper political meaning.
For those who are unsure, the Slut Walk is part of a broader worldwide movement which was sparked by a Toronto policeman lecturing about the dangers surrounding rape.  I'm sure that the poor guy had a lot more to say to keep those college girls safe, but he'll only ever be remembered for one little aside, a mere throwaway comment; "women should avoid dressing like sluts".
Well, they should avoid dressing like sluts to avoid getting raped - thats what he said, basically, and boy is the poor ol' PC plod in a lot of hot water for saying it.

My last post or so discussed - or flaunted in a particularly boastful, look-at-me slutty manner - about the POWER that lay behind the standout slut outfit, and how something similar should be in every stripper's arsenal.
And then I noticed the comments in the media - 'slut' was being reclaimed for common parlance, like 'queer' was for gays (when will happy people reclaim the word 'gay', huh?- only joking)
What really tickled me at first was that so many wanted to be able to wear slutty clothes without the fear of getting raped.  Surely a slutty outfit is there to excite and arouse sexual desire in others - a corset and thong are not worn for their comfort or practicality.  You can't nip down to the shop in a pair of 6" perspex stiletto's, your money rolled up in a lacy garter across your thigh.  A latex jumpsuit was not invented because you can easily dance in it - or take a piss in a cramped cubicle.  Surely you wanted sexual attention - surely you are asking for it when you are dressed like a slut?
No.  No for two reasons - the first and most obvious is that no woman wants to be raped with impunity by randoms against her will.
But also no because, my view of a slutty outfit and what they do is completely and utterly subjective.  For christ's sake - I'm a stripper, looking like a slut is part of my job.
But if you are not a stripper, and still want to wear heels and fake tan and push-up bras and short skirts and pout provocatively in your £20 designer lipgloss - well why not?  You are a woman looking beautiful and enjoying herself.  A bit of attention might be nice, sure - but sexual assault?  Come on.  That would totally spoil a night out.

I think I've just talked myself into strolling through London on the 4th of June - but I'll leave my standout slut outfit at home and instead walk to reclaim sexy outfit wearing for sluts and non-sluts at the London Slut Walk.

Where are all the bankers?

Last Friday the papers had the front page news I had been waiting for.

The Banker's bonuses had been announced!!! 

Ok, so they won't get their money for the next couple of months, but they find out what was in the pot and how much they are going to receive for a years hard work (ahem!), so the theory is that last Friday should have been a night of rejoicing for the 10000 bankers at Citibank say, or the 4000 at Barclays and so on.  (My figures may be off here, but I'm trying to remember the Evening Standard article whilst hungover).

Even though I was dog tired, I dargged myself into the club on Friday night.  I keep an eye on these things, as one big night with a super rich client can be worth a whole week of normal nights.  I wore my favourite, but approachable dress - not too tarty, in a pretty white lace.  My hair was carefully waved, my eyes were dark and smoky - all in all, I was a dead ringer for the girlfriend they had always wanted, a Page 3 girl next door, a true high street honey. The banker crowd want to celebrate, I thought, not get so drunk that they go for the slappiest slapper with the biggest tits and blondest hair - thats more a Saturday night, stag do crowd.

As you can tell, I had high hopes for this evening.  I just needed to look good and stay alert to the waves of guys coming through the doors, pick carefully, and pounce!

I waited

And I waited

And I waited some more.....

Midnight came, and I had still not seen even one f**ging group of City boys!!!!  

I left the club early, at around 2am, sorely disappointed.  City boys, I don't know where the hoardes of you happy boys went to celebrate your bonuses, but it is a sad day for us strippers of London when you can't even go spend some of it on a pretty lady or two.

There are further announcements planned for the remaining banks bonuses - boys, once you get your good news, remember what Lou Mannenheim says in Wall Street;

"Kid, you're on a roll. Enjoy it whilst it lasts, 'cause it never does."