The party shamans: Dinner in a swimming-pool full of ballerinas? No problem. Emma Cook meets the men behind London's fantasy fiestas

The scene is a subterranean slaughterhouse in Spitalfields. The top floor is elegantly decked out in Louis XIV furniture while the basement is submerged in dry ice. Through the haze African girls chant and dance to bongo drums. Switch to Europe's oldest music hall near Tower Bridge. Sumptuous dishes of fruit decorate banqueting tables surrounded by 10 ft torches of flame. Waiters carry silver platters piled with exotic delicacies: Iranian caviar on blue corn blini, oysters in onion salsa. These theatrical creations, worthy of a Peter Greenaway film set, are one of many private and commercial events organised by Urban Party Culture, London's hippest party planners.

In 1991, Jonathan Rutherfurd-Best and David Scholefield, both New Zealanders in their thirties, decided to pool their talents to cater for the lavish desires of London's more decadent revellers. Jonathan, a town-planning graduate, used to manage a performance art cafe in Sydney before working as a catering consultant in a London design company. He sees himself as a 'modern shaman' able to 'create rituals'. His buzz words are 'collaboration' and 'orchestration'. Not surprisingly, his business partner David, an architecture graduate and technical director in the arts, worked on Michael Clark's last ballet production in Kings Cross.

They tend to shy away from conventional 'deb' affairs and refuse to do raves. Their niche is strictly fantasy. 'We provide escapism,' says Jonathan, who believes the recession has helped rather than hindered business. 'In times like these you need parties.' And in times like these escapism costs. Their budget starts at pounds 3,000, for which they will organise an intimate dinner for 50 in your own home. Larger affairs in bizarre locations can cost anything up to pounds lOO,000. 'Champagne over London for 25 will be pounds 5,000 minimum,' says Jonathan, referring to a future project involving a cosy dinner in an airship.

'The English love that sense of theatre,' observes Rutherfurd-Best. He believes that we are obsessed with detail which is why so much of his attention is spent on trivia; the colour of the toilet paper, the brand of towels, the look of an invitation. For the launch of Twin Peaks in Britain, guests were sent police exhibit bags containing a finger nail, some hair and a page from Laura's diary.

Their events, scattered with oblique cinematic references, are clearly aimed at the more informed client. 'Sometimes it can be a bit off the mark for the really straight businessman,' admits Jonathan. Even their brochure sounds like a series of image bites from a Beineix movie: 'Lambrettas by a Roman fountain, midnight fog in a topiary garden, post-structural floral art and a forest in a synagogue.' Yet there seems to be no shortage of punters willing to pay for their surrealist approach. The clients, like their events, are eclectic and arty; Stephen Frears, Saatchi and Saatchi, Andrew McAlpine, Vogue and Channel 4.

Last week, actor Robert Lindsay paid them an unsolicited amount to produce a kitsch creation called 'The Prom I Never Had' for 250 people in Porchester Hall, Bayswater. The scene was suitably extravagant. Waitresses on rollerskates in peroxide wigs skimmed through the crowds with trays of cocktails, a Harley Davidson was parked in the men's toilet, a pianist played on a revolving stage, while a cinema screen showed High Society.

Rutherfurd-Best is now busy with several other projects. He confides his latest dream: 'It would be dinner at the bottom of an empty swimming pool.' His eyes light up. 'My staff would be dressed in white suits and navy sculpted hats. Then of course there would be a modern ballet performing at the edges.' All yours for just pounds 20,000.

Urban Party Planners, 98 St Martin's Lane, London WC2 (071-240 8731)

Other venues: English Heritage - London's Historic Houses (081-348 1286), pounds 200-5,000; Natural History Museum, London SW7 (071-938 8934), pounds 4,250

(Photograph omitted)