Holidays are a good thing, but not always good for your health. Especially not if there are Late Night Bars of Evil in your neighborhood.

Bars: I used the plural on purpose. We didn't go to the LNBOE last night, we went to a new bar that would like to become The LNBOE. They're not there yet. They play loud music and are open until four am. They've also got whirling lights and an actual dance floor instead of "wherever you happen to be standing." I enjoyed the music, which was essentially speed-metal versions of songs you love and know by heart if you happen to be over thirty. (The speed-metal version of "Come On Eileen" was particularly memorable.) The music, however, was not near as good as at the real LNBOE, the place is too big for everybody to squish together properly, and there's no Mr. Evil to egg everybody on and pass out shots of schnapps before sending you home. Not only that, but they do actually close at four, instead of Mr. Evil's "whenever I feel like it, slightly earlier if the cops have been crabby lately."

Oh, and they have one of those systems where you get a card at the door which you must hang on to at all costs. At the end of the night, everybody has to queue up to pay before leaving. I'd much rather pay as you go.

In summary: not nearly Evil enough. They have a long way to go before challenging The Real LNBOE.

Which is probably just as well, because we agreed to go on a hash today with Sir and Lady Jane. We've been assured that we can walk and will not be forced to run, which may well be our salvation.

Once again, we shall see.