With a massive helping of Victorian music-hall chic and a sidedish of boisterous bordello, this bash was something out of the ordinary. Held in a pub deep in the East End of London where the Kray twins used to throw a few friendly gatherings, the theme was 'dead love' and party people flocked in their droves dressed as their favourite deceased couple.

I found myself standing next to Sid'n'Nancy, surrounded by battered corpses and bopping with a gentlemen and his skeletal companion. Entertainment came in the shape of pyromaniac queen Lucifire, hip-hop perverts Crack Village and ghoulish zombie strippers who ripped each other's clothes, hair and nipples off.

At one point Sid Vicious was clumped by a drug-crazed ex-soldier back from Iraq, who tried to steal money from the club organisers. But Pauline, the landlady, who wrapped herself completely in toilet paper, was totally oblivious as she sampled the delights of laughing gas for the first time. Whoever said dead love was dead?