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Prostitutes playing hard to get?

By Vision Reporter

Added 12th August 2005 03:00 AM

WHEN Club Volts organised a media bash, I ducked it because I wanted to catch them unawares. So, armed with entandikwa beers in our heads, my two friends and I made ourselves available at the discotheque last Saturday to discover the club which the area MP Lukyamuzi declared fit for human con

WHEN Club Volts organised a media bash, I ducked it because I wanted to catch them unawares. So, armed with entandikwa beers in our heads, my two friends and I made ourselves available at the discotheque last Saturday to discover the club which the area MP Lukyamuzi declared fit for human con

WHEN Club Volts organised a media bash, I ducked it because I wanted to catch them unawares. So, armed with entandikwa beers in our heads, my two friends and I made ourselves available at the discotheque last Saturday to discover the club which the area MP Lukyamuzi declared fit for human consumption.

Club Volts is on the right side after Kibuye as you head for Entebbe. You cannot miss it, thanks to the powerful beam of light that sends ray patterns into the dark sky inviting those who are stuck with their money to come and be relieved. We failed to get space to park.

The club has no parking space and may need to look into this urgently. You cannot dance comfortably wondering whether your car is safe.

The lady usher said caps were not allowed inside. When we protested, she said: “even in Ange you cannot enter with caps.” Was the club desperate to be like Ange Noir? We left the caps with a keeper who gave us a receipt, paid sh7,000 each for entrance fee and off we went for discovery.

The place is beautiful. The bar at the entrance is shielded off the dance floor meaning you can just drink and play pool without interacting with dancers, which is a tick. Beer is sh2,000 and soda sh1,000.

The glittering Club Volts Discotheque carpet, the sparkling decorations and mirrors on the dance hall wall and the nature of the dance floor still remind one of Club Silk, Ange Noir or The basement. The difference is that the place is much bigger. The loos are clean and still new. Our girl loved it and yet we had practically dragged her there.

For the first time in my roving, I looked around and there was nobody I knew among the revellers! That was good because I could be myself without fear or favour. But most of the girls dancing looked like they had escaped from a boarding nursery school. Three beers later, they still looked young, which means that they were actually Movement children.

It was a break from the Ange chics who spend 8,640 annual hours worrying about their fingernails. Even for the males, I was the fattest, according to the mirrors on the wall. I wish somebody was thinking that I was the richest around.

But I did not dance much. The DJs locked me out with music for my daughters for hours on end. Was it not Saturday? They should have played a mix to give all of us chance. A new place should be endeavouring to look like the Movement –– all encompassing.

I got bored and left to do some spying which took me to the upper level, accessed from outside. The boss is said to be planning an executive wing up here. I asked the askari there if he could allow me to bring a girl for some romance and he said I would not enjoy it because the place was well-lit.

On return, some scantily-dressed girl asked me to pay for her entrance. I asked if she was single and she said “single but not searching.” I left her in my dust. I had never seen prostitutes playing hard to get.

Prostitutes playing hard to get?

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