Empire Bar

Damn those picture phones. Before Nokia decided it was a good idea to put cameras into mobiles you could come to a place like Empire Bar, pull a fat trog called Carol then boast to your mates that she looked like Caprice. Nowadays, this hormonal Sheffield junkyard is lurking with potential snappers eager to provide evidence that you pulled a fatty. The lively music and cheap cocktails will soon make you forget. Until the morning, of course, when your flatmate gleefully presents you with the evidence. Grrgh.

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