It’s 6.30am and I’m trying to sleep. My ears buzz from a heavy night of house at world famous club, Amnesia.
There’s noise outside my balcony, lots of it. As I place the pillow over my head (tinnitus still beating me like a Drum and Bass rave) – I hear a loud scream followed by a huge splash!!! I run to my door, which leads on the the villa pool and there I see, three naked woman, cheering, urging me into our pool. THIS is Ibiza…
I’d wanted to experience the world’s best clubbing destination for ages. But after my missus put me on a lifetime drugs ban, I kind of felt like there was no point.
Like most people who haven’t been before, I imagined Ibiza to be the Island of Ecstasy. San Antonio, the place where sweaty ravers can dance until sunrise, fuelled only by MDMA and overpriced bottles of H20.
I’d have happily believed this forever, until clubbing legend Charlie Chester invited me to see a different side of the White Isle, like a VIP. Naturally, I was curious and within a week, I was there.
