Pussy’s

Après avoir attendu plus d’une heure devant l’entrée, le physio nous a recalé moi et mes amies parce que nous étions soit disant trop vieilles alors que nous avions 25 ans. Ce genre de comportement est choquant et doit être condamné. Ce club converge tous les comportements de type cis blancs anti femme. Boycottez et courez voir aillleurs.

Probably the worst club I’ve ever been in. They charged us 50 euro for three people even though there was no one dancing.
I tried to talk to them about the situation afterwords and they pretended they didn’t know me.
I accidentally left my leather jacket on the chair after an extraordinarily disappointing experience, and they told me it wasn’t there. They literally stole my jacket from me.
The ironic thing is: all of the strippers are too fat to fit into my xs leather jacket.

As one not to indulge in pussy often, my compatriot Hobnob «Shining Finger» McLellan decided to take me here. After a day of hard walking, Speculos losing his money at the bureau de change and get doused by a street toilet we decided to head down to Pussys a reputable gentlemans club in Paris’ finest quarters.
At the door the bouncer wanted to charge us € 10 each. We paid up and entered this world class establishment. We felt like kings as we entered, we were the only two in this pussy palace, decorated with purple lace curtains and pink neon lights that shone on the bar, which reminded me of my former days as a Miami detective in the 80s.
The majority of the woman were to say the least not of Playboy quality but one in particular came up to us and asked me if I wanted a private show. She had full, thick red lips and there was only one thing on our minds as she licked them slowly. She tried to charge us € 50 for 5 minutes but luckily Hobnob the master of bargaining managed to bring it down to € 10 and got us a free beer.
As I sat there, she came in and danced like a nymph in the moonlight, an ecstasy which I’ve only seen in my wildest dreams. As she went down to my level she said «The JWs are here» only I knew what that meant. I knew I had to leave. I stood up and she asked me for a tip, I told her «No, this is my money for my taxi»
I left and me and Hobnob had a kebab, which was in a baguette. Imagine my confusion when I ate that.
I gave this place 3 stars because it’s a mixed bag. If you’re with Hobnob and he’s in the mood to bargain then it’s worth it, especially if your favourite girl is there. If not avoid it.

Terrible!!! Awful looking girls who only walk around the pole. They then stand at you table with their hand out demanding a tip. We finished our beers and walked out. The owner told us to «F off» as we walked out after only five minutes. Don’t waste your money at this dump!!!

On the Boulevard de Clichy there’s Moulin Rouge… and countless hawkers trying to get you to go into their establishment to see their «sex show». They all ask for 20euros. Some of them literally follow you down the street like a sad beggar. After my curiosity got the best of me, and the hawker outside this dump promised me I could take photos inside (I was thinking more Diane Arbus than Helmut Newton), and he lowered the admit to 10euros including a drink, I went in, because a beer in most cafes is 5 or 6 Euros. They asked me what kind of drink I wanted and I picked a beer, assuming they would totally water down a cocktail. But these guys know every angle; they gave me a small glass that was half beer half foam, lol. Long story short: the «sex show» is a bunch of immigrant girls half-​heartedly dancing topless to music videos every 5 minutes or so. The various dancers come to your seat and endlessly try to solicit you for drinks. The minimum price for a drink for these girls is 30euros, which is by law printed on a menu on your table. You could imagine that if a traveler was really naïve, they could be clipped for a lot of cash. After about 20 minutes the manager figured out that I was not going to be chumped into buying a drink for any of these freaks, he had his bouncers physically throw me out onto the street. There is nothing too sexy about this place; it even smelled like a damp basement. I would imagine Pussy’s competitors are about all the same. Pretty sexy eh?
There. I just saved you a hot, disinfecting shower, 10euros and a trip to blvd de Clichy.
And no, you won’t be allowed to take out your camera in this place, another lie they will tell you. Otherwise I would have given you some pretty entertaining photos of the girls, the male staff and the equally bizarre clientele.

On a beau né pas être pornocrate, on né peut pas habiter dix ans dans le dix-​huitième arrondissement sans pousser au moins une fois la porte d’un stripclub. La curiosité a toutefois ses limites, et c’est souvent soit par dépit, soit par envie de faire la fête que la visite se produit. Dans mon cas c’était pour faire la fête, et j’en suis bien content, parce que j’y ai vu un gars à l’intérieur, qui devait être là par dépit, et qui s’est fait allumer quand il a fallu payer les douze bières qu’on avait posé et ouvert sur sa table à son insu, bien occupé par une entraîneuse qui lui réclamait des coupes de champagne à coups de chéri-​chéri et de tapes amicales sur la cuisse.
Nous, on s’en est mieux sorti, et je né dis pas ça en bombant le torse, seulement on était trois et on était motivés, mais il s’en est fallu de peu. On nous a demandé quinze euros à l’entrée, en affirmant qu’une boisson était incluse. Cool, on y va. Seulement quand on nous fait comprendre après avoir descendu notre whisky soda et admiré le spectacle affligeant, que c’est le deuxième verre qui est offert, il faut faire face, on né veut pas foirer notre soirée et s’avouer vaincu, ce n’est pas le genre de la troupe. Alors on a dit non: NO WAY. Comme ils ont l’habitude de ce genre d’esclandres (c’est même leur fond de commerce), ils n’ont pas insisté, et nous ont laissé filer avec toutes nos phalanges. L’honneur était sauvé, mais pas notre soirée.