Tokyo Joe's

When I said that the gallery in York was the workst place on earth I had been a little bit hasty. I'm sure Freud has a phrase for the repression of distressing events. Events such as my one and only entry into 'the world famous tokyo joes'.
To start with the gallery had lots of little endearing things about it. I would liken it to a bad mullet. Nasty but you gotta love em. This place I would liken to pussey sore. There's not really anything endearing about it.
Firstly, a well dressed gentleman could be turned away at the door whereas thuggish drunk crop top hooligan types... because the former was wearing trainers and the latter rockports (to be fair this is like most places in Preston). Once you get in you are confronted by ....the words escape me. Apart from the fact that everyone is underage and p#ssed out of their heads they all look the same. All the guys are wearing the same stuff and have the same haircuts and talk the same and are all doing the same stupid dances whilst trying to cop of with the underage skimpily clad girls. Dant would have promoted this place to a special place in pugartory. I'm so disgusted that I quit this review in disgust.