Kellys Portrush is Northern Ireland’s answer to Ibiza

Big names (Basshunter, Fat Boy Slim ,Calvin Harris etc.) attract bus loads from up and down the country. Even your new mates from Uni went last Halloween but no one knows the reality like those of us who grew up (and were probably conceived) in Kellys. For us, the glossy club photography and bikini clad models do little to distract from the actuality, you and your mates sneaking in a five glass of Glens to down in the toilets.

Thinking about all the bad decisions you made last night

If you’re from the North Coast then your Dad probably knows at least one of the bouncers and your parents and grandparents have undoubtedly preceded you on the LUSH! dancefloor and their tales from “Harmony” make you understand where you got it from.

For many it’s simply the middle of the week but as soon as you set foot in Kelly’s Wednesday takes on a whole new meaning. Preparation for Kelly’s began in the AM with a pitch worthy of an investment from Lord Sugar to that one friend who always says she’s not going and a discussion as to whose parents will let them have a pre on a school night.

Wednesday afternoons meant heading into town in your mates R Plate emblazoned Corsa to blow your EMA in Topshop only to see a girl from the year below wearing the same dress. Thursday mornings were dedicated to the debrief and all embarrassing photos will have made their way to the common rooms ‘Wall of Shame’ by the time the bell rings.

King of Pres, shout out to all the cool parents letting their kids host pres even on a school night

A night in Kelly’s is full of ups and downs, that’s mainly down to the lethal combination of the notorious Kelly’s Mop and six inch heels. You’re sure to see the same three pill heads in LUSH! as last week, be hit on by at least one lecherous 40-year-old and struggle to find a single toilet that isn’t out of order.

Though it’s not all bad. You’ll step into the Star Bar smoking area and see everyone you’ve known since birth, you’ll dance like no one is watching in Synk corner (even though someone’s put it all on Snapchat) and get yourself sorted with a new cover photo with that famous Kelly’s back drop. But the excitement only really begins when the last song plays.

Classic cover photo material

The Kelly’s Lane spans no more than two hundred metres but these five stages make up one of longest and most difficult journeys you’ll make in your life;  Drunk girls with no shoes on. Anger, a tracksuit clad hood trying to fight a guy who looked at him the wrong way. Bargaining, offering any designated driver you can see the shrapnel from your clutch bag and three Sterling Fresh Taste for a lift home with no avail. Depression, your mates broken down as she’s just seen her ex with a girl she was friends with back in third year. Acceptance, seeing that there’s ten drunk teenagers to every one taxi, ignoring four consecutive calls from your Mum and dragging yourself to the Indian Ocean for a chip downer.

Kelly’s is a rite of passage. First fag, first drink, first kiss. To say it changed my life would be no exaggeration and I’d do it all again, every single Wednesday. Scatter my ashes in Synk Corner.