Corporate duty took me to Opium on Dean Street last night. A bar-cum-‘club space’ it was visually opulent but thematically hi-tack, a mishmash of orientalist cliches. Here was some Indian beer; there was some (frankly glitch-prone) ‘world fusion’ music; everywhere there were arabesque drapes; the rather good food was roughly Thai – and look! a belly dancer! Two!

The question of belly dancing in bars is not one I thought I’d have to deal with on the Publog. Basically I’m against it – it looked skilful but was a bit of a conversation killer, and at one point a gyrating odalisque positioned herself right between me and my drink. But belly dancers who used their sinuous skills to collect empties – now there would be a thing!