FENWICK'S

( Note-This bar has been closed down due to the expiration of the lease but we will leave the review here for posterity as Fenwicks has gone down in the annals of Wanchai sleaze history.)

As you go down the stairs of this basement bar, you get the feeling you’re descending directly into a salacious den of iniquity- a Sodom and Gomorrah filled with small South East Asians sporting sky-high stilettos and laughing at some fat white dude’s jokes. But of course you’re butt-ass drunk, you’re with your equally intoxicated cronies and no one wants to make any more effort to talk to ladies- Especially after the gang has already blown a load of dough buying drinks for the snobby princesses in Central. Oh yes- it’s time to go on the slut-safari- It’s time for Fenwick’s.

Fenwick’s is not actually a girly bar. There are no hostesses, lap dancers or anyone swinging around a pole- but be assured- most of the girls in there are freelance call-girls hoping to make a no-commission bang for the buck before heading home. Eye-witnesses have actually seen girls getting down on one knee and doing the sign of the cross before entering- perhaps to ask God for forgiveness for what they are about to do.

I’m sure no one really cares nor remembers what the place really looks like. It’s the circus of freaky and surreal things going on in there that’s the main attraction. In one corner is the Thai clique, in the other is the Filipina zone, yet another corner has the African clan. There’s also the ‘full-service’ Colombian corner where the girls might actually be selling more than just their bodies. Sniff, sniff...

I was sober when I dared to enter and I noticed that it was a fairly large establishment with low claustrophobic ceilings. There was a lot of wood- and not just on the floors or on the walls either.

A really bad band was playing what might have been a cover tune of a death metal song and there were a few girls wriggling around in tight skirts trying to sexy dance despite the discordant din.

This place may seem nightmarish to most Wyndham Street denizens, but for some, its a ‘sexy time’ paradise or at least a comical playground. Strangely, people who claim they never go to Wanchai often get spotted at Fenwick’s and some conveniently have forgotten to wear their wedding rings! It’s shocking who you can run into there.

As I made my way out, my arm grazed against the biggest pot-belly I had ever laid my eyes on. It took kegs upon kegs of beer to build a gut like that. It was enough to make any decent girl say-me NOT so horny, me NOT love you long time.