There was another twist in the tragic story of Fabric’s illegitimate closure earlier this week after local property developers announced that the once totemic bastion of underground culture is to be gutted and repurposed as a long-term storage solution for the ever ballooning egos of smug London coffee magnates.
The move comes amidst the ongoing controversy of reported council witch hunts, pressure from coked up local bankers and bitching residents, who moved in long after the nightclub was opened only to miraculously discover it was a bit noisey.
Wunderground spoke to a Farringdon property developer, who wished to remain anonymous, about the controversial decision.
“Well, personally, we’re all very excited about the prospect. There’s now an average of four coffee shops to every espadrille wearing web designer in the city so not only do coffee shop owners need more pointless shit to spend money on, other than retro bikes and screenprinted potato sacks, but they also need a safe space to house their incredibly large egos and tiresome sense of self-worth.”
We also spoke to a chartered surveyor from the local area who gave us a little more detail on why the, now disused, club space is perfect to house the opinions of trumped up cunts charging a fiver a cup for a quid’s worth of Maxwell House.
“Fabric is essentially the perfect site for the job. The sonic frequency at which most wankbag coffee shop owners bray and boast about their fully restored Enfield motor cycles or blog about their Digital Detox weekends in The Cotswolds is almost identical to that produced by the sub-bass in the majority of underground music,” explained the anonymous surveyor with all the conviction of a man who has read three quarters of a degree level science report whilst half-pissed on a Megabus.
“So basically it won’t disturb anyone outside of the building too much. Fabric also has a rich history of accommodating thousands of people week in and week out who have a surplus of stimulants running through their body and just want to talk utter tripe in the smoking area.”
“So housing the bloated egos of these waffling, bean roasting cunts should be a walk in the proverbial park. Which is also probably choc-full of the latte flogging, French Bulldog owning twats.”
