Was Saturday night your best night for ages? Did you truly – and be honest now – enjoy yourself? I did. Now, before you right me off as some smug prick, take a moment to listen to the reasons why. On Saturday I went to the Lost Baggage event at The Cross nightclub, described on the flyer as a night with the lavish theme of ‘Oriental Disaster’. Before we begin, I want to stipulate that everything in the following is exactly as I saw it.

So, as I marched through the oriental archway and up into the throbbing cavern upstairs, my senses were nuked by a trippy sea of colours, laughter and swirling, pounding bass. It was like an orgy scene from Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas: the waitresses were witches, the hosts were Jedi, the bartenders looked like Oddjob, and Fred Flintstone was lying on a white furry bed having a ménage a trois with Superman and the chick from Zorro.

Next door, the ‘Bump Lounge’ hosted the likes of Deepchild, Bump DJs and Bjoern Wilke. Dreamy, translucent visuals on two huge LCD flatscreens behind the decks, which added a hypnotic dimension to the deft beats firing out into this cosy little setting. On the other side of the club, The ‘Nonchalant Disco Terrace’ and enormous balcony were a chilled space of refuge for those wiped out from smashing it up in the other rooms, offering a chance to relax and recuperate.

The main room was like a cave-come-chinese boudoir, with the roof dripping in lamps and the sides intermittently sectioned off with those same partitions that Chuck Norris loves round-housing people through. However, the focal point and pièce de résistance was the DJ booth. It was an altar guarded by an army of fuck-off huge speakers. When Yousef finally stepped onto this quasi-lectern, delivering those driving, euphoric crescendos that have made him so famous, I realised that Christ, Buddha, Allah and all those other sots had got it all wrong: Lost Baggage was the only true transcendental experience.

For those who feel that I’ve slipped into melodrama, fair enough – I can only speak for myself, and how it was for me. But for everyone apart from the Philistines, check out the next Finely Tuned/Reckless Republic night… And maybe you’ll become a believer too.