What do you do on Saturday night when it's nearly 11.30 and most of the places charge you to get in?
A friend and I had this dilemma, which was made worse by the fact that we hadn't drunk at all - so faving the free bars at O'Neills or the Phoenix on Charing Cross Road were no-nos.
But then we found what looked like a conservatory-cum-bar at the back of Centrepoint. It called itself a Late Bar. Why not give it a go?
And that's how we walked - accidentally - into a lesbian bar.
I have been on this planet for 29 years and never been in one before. More surprising though, we actually got served.
But I reckon they probably thought that like them, us being two blokes, we were probably fellow travellers.