The voices all around me laughing and bawling over the repetitive dull thud from under our feet. It makes me think we are on the floor above a club of the kind I haven’t been in for nearly two decades.

The screws on the walls which hold the corrugated metal panels in place are buzzing loudly in time to the music. It’s a harsh tinny sound like an annoying alarm and I long to reach over and switch it off. Someone has daubed paint in neon bright colours all over the walls. It’s too random to be art.

The kind of places I spend my Saturdays in have been plumped up and styled to make you feel welcome and cosseted. As the corridor narrows and the music gets louder it makes me feel like this place has been designed to set me on edge.

My mouth is dry and I’m sweating. This air raid shelter starts to shake like it’s under attack but it’s just the thud thud thud of the beat. A door opens and the sound of music floods the corridor I feel like we are drowning in it. It’s too loud to speak. Out of the door escapes a wide-eyed, pale shirtless man who puts his face into mine and stares at me. He smiles but his eyes try to warn me. I can smell booze and armpits and the smell of relief as he walks in the opposite direction from me.

I realise that whatever he was trying to get away from is waiting to draw me in.