Walking the dark, mysterious streets of Soho, all the neon lights, the mannequins in crotch-less lace, the sex bars you only have to stoop to tie a rogue shoe lace near, and you’re whacked over the back of the head, dragged inside and either robbed or put to work. All those blank, faceless doors, leading to nowhere. Ever wondered what is behind the door? Sure, it’s probably just another massage parlour come brothel, the line in between the two, dancing from one end to t’other like Michael Flatley with an Energizer battery stuffed up his arse. Or perhaps it leads to a pink stairway with an A4 printed poster, reading ‘Models Wanted’ in stylish curved Word Art. I’ve always wondered who really goes up those steps. ‘Hmm… they’re looking for models. I want to be a model! And they’re hiring! This is it, Hollywood here I come!’ Those people deserve to end up in someone’s freezer.

Behind one of these doors, there is not a knife / sex toy wielding maniac waiting to violate your every orifice. Well there probably is, s/he just isn’t really supposed to do it in there. I’m talking about Soho house, one of the chain of the same name’s lower end private members clubs. Because this is as I say, a club for private members, there are requirements for one to be granted access. First off, you need to have at least £600 burning a hole in your pocket (£250 if you’re under 27), and you also need to be an idiot. If you meet both these requirements you’re granted 12 months free entry - although paying £600 is the only way to get ‘free’ entry. One year on, you’ll need another £600 (or £250), and to be an even bigger idiot.

I know how private members clubs work of course. They work like this. You pay a yearly membership fee, and you reap the benefits. As these deals go, Soho House is pretty cheap. Even Shoreditch House (the same company’s East London offering) is £700/£500. And at the Groucho club (also in Soho), money doesn’t even come in to it until you’ve secured written letters of commendation from respectable citizens, and been approved by the membership committee.

It’s just that, if I know I have to pay £600 a year just to get in and use the bogs, I expect £600 worth of pleasure to greet me once I’m in there. The place is nice sure, opulent even, but lots of places are nice. The best things I can think about the place, better than any other free (which is actually free) bar, is that they have towels for you to dry your hands in the toilets. When everything’s added up, that’s a bloody expensive towel!

Drinks are reasonably cheap once you get in there. (£3.50 - £5 beers. Cheapest bottle of champagne is about £30), but then that’s like thanking your partner for not raping you right after having sex. Lighting, furniture, decoration, all nice, waiting staff smart and friendly. But is it enough? No.

When you really get down to it, what is that membership fee for? It’s clearly not to enjoy actually being in the club. Actually being in there, supping your Belgian booze, nibbling your hand-crafted from oak crisps. It’s simply to be a member. You’re essentially paying to be able to tap in a code to a seemingly random shabby Soho door, and walk into a Witch and Wardrobe world, others have no idea even exists. You’re paying to be told you have money, to feel rich. It’s easy to feel rich when you’re able to waste money like that.

BEER SELECTION: Mostly cocktails and fine wines. Can get a beer, but probably frowned upon. **

COST OF A ROUND: Reasonable drinks prices, but initial membership cost means you’d have to become Paul Gascoigne to get your money’s worth. *

STAFF: Smart. Friendly. Welcoming. Top Notch. What you’d expect. *****

FOOD: Actual meals I’d expect to be really nice. But simple stuff? Chips are quite greasy and hummus unimaginative if well presented. **

SKIRT RATIO: I assume you’d get thrown out for bothering someone not in your party, but I imagine you can’t go wrong on a date. **

OVERALL: Nice, but for that cost, it needs to go above and beyond, and it just doesn’t. **

Soho House - Soho - Brought to you by James Wormald -