Welcome to disillusion central

Dear Burn Nightclub,

Wow, it’s been a while, hey. When was it last? October, I think. Or something like that, anyway. But it was good seeing you last night. Glen and I had a decent time. It was fun. Thank you.

But, man, you’re not looking that well. Have you been ill?

I know you had some light surgery, but apart from now trying to look like a castle (a terrible one at that – sorry, but it’s true) I didn’t notice any difference. It just felt like Mario Bros, but without the princess and the gold coins (except you could probably find mushrooms if you asked nicely).

Your bathrooms were still dreadful and the sound hadn’t improved. I would think that these would be the two areas you would like to fix first – but, hey, that’s just me.

It made me sad, Burn, to see you in that sorry state last night. None of the regular visitors were there, which was also quite sad. It must have made you sad, too…

I used to love you company and the people you hung around with. You were my favourite place to visit in Durban. But you’re not the same any more. You’ve lost your lustre. And I mean that in the most honest possible way. You’ve lost that charm you once had.

The revamp at Burn, which now looks like a castle - well, kind of.

I used to visit you once a week, sometimes more. Fridays have hooked up at your parties and we’d danced moerse hard to some really good music. Good bands, great bands, crap bands – they’ve all played with you. But I don’t think that happens as much now, does it?

You need to get your act together – and I’m saying this as a friend. I’m sorry to say, that if you don’t, I’m not sure how much longer you’re going to be around. Like the overweight dude with high blood pressure, you need to get into gym and sort yourself out. That’s what I’m doing, and I really think you should, too.

Last night as I was there, drinking Spiced Gold, I felt like I was sitting at disillusion central – and it felt terrible. Sort it out.

With love,



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