Republic in Leicester is the most tragic night out in the UK

Leicester’s clubbing scene is sparse at best, for most of us it’s a 50:50 choice between a sweaty night at Mosh in your trainers or putting some effort in to getting glammed up to experience highly overpriced R-bar. Then followed by finishing your night in the wasteland of Republic (the two always seem to come as a pair).

Republic is an oddly formal club (something I’ve noticed the North lacks) in which you’re supposed to go dressed classier than your average Mosh Tuesday.

Unless you visit on Skint Friday or Monsta Monday, Republic also seems to be pretty pricey, charging sometimes up to £8 for entry (which we all know deep down is deffo not worth it). All you ever seem to end up paying for is the unnerving red lighting and queueing for what are possibly the worst makeshift looking toilets you’ve ever seen.

a classic Republic Monday

Split into a series of rooms, most of us visit Republic for its well-known cheese room, decorated in an odd clash of 80s vibrancy and playing the classic bangers or 70s and 80s hits. Ever been into the cheese room sober? Probably not as the room itself only opens after the resident clubbers have managed to reach that good level of drunk, proving how tragic this throwback disco is.

Republic’s main room is the biggest let down, a huge waste of space that always seems half empty every time you visit. Not to mention the shocking music (most of which nobody seems to know) organised by some overly hyped DJ sitting in a big box with excessive strobe lighting.

One thing that remains true is that the old RnB room was absolute class. The most packed room of all, playing the likes of R Kelly, Kayne and 50 Cent, but it never actually seems to be open. This is Republic’s way of forcing us all to endure the horror of the main room's techno remixes.

Aside from all of this, the weirdest part of a Republic experience is who you encounter while in there. Firstly, there is an alarming number of shifty individuals dressed in suits moping around those seedy looking leather booths. Does anybody ever talk to them? Then you’ve got your die-hard Republic goers looking all classy in their heels, closely followed by some shady looking lads whose version of formalwear is to stick on their 'Republic shoes'.

Closing time approaches at a respectable 4am, and it's here that the entirety of the club end up on the pavement outside. Inevitably, somebody always ends up in the back of the resident police van that’s always outside. You get to witness plenty of drama and then you and your mates make a hasty departure to Maccies (or Blueprint if you’re a bit of a loser) trying to make sense of the past few hours, which is always an impossible task.

As strange and tragic as a Republic night out can be, it’s a classic staple in Leicester’s nightlife. We’ve all been there and will definitely all keep going back time and time again.