True gripes: Squeezed out: Time for rejected clubbers to get heavy

Am I alone in being sick to the teeth of nightclub bouncers masquerading as beauty police? It is the ultimate comedown, a frustrating end to what is intended as an evening of enjoyment, which leaves you feeling cold, bored and faced with the prospect of trudging sheepishly back past the hopefuls queuing behind you. And all on the whim of a bouncer with an ego the size of a sound system who has decided that you will not be one of the chosen few.

We have reached the point where to enter the glorified portals of the most respected clubs in London, the places to be seen at, the happening joints (Daddy O), you first have to be subjected to as brutal a scrutiny as you are likely to encounter anywhere outside a customs and excise back parlour. Quite frankly, if your weight's not down, you're not coming in.

This ordeal is exacerbated by the fact that most bouncers seem to come from some Neanderthal half-breed that Desmond Morris might be persuaded to write a study of - The Naked Bouncer?

Where else would such absurdly offensive discrimination be allowed? Certainly not in the workplace. Any employer displaying similar tendencies would be marched in front of an industrial court or trade union.

It doesn't happen in any other leisure activities that I can think of. (Although for sheer entertainment value, I for one would be frequenting far more football matches if a similar policy were to be enforced at, say, Highbury's turnstiles. Attendants would have to be robust characters indeed). Club entry remains one area where human rights legislation has been curiously lax. If clubs were made to state and adhere to entry policies, punters would at least be given a fair chance. No one can complain about being turned away from a club which is member-only, or has a publicised dress code, if they do not comply.

But despite, or because of, this outrageous discrimination, fanned by the recommendations of the same press that vilify Peter Stringfellow for simply admitting what countless others are guilty of, the clubs in question remain the places to go. You only have to stand outside The Atlantic or Billion Dollar Babes or numerous others to see the hoards of overweight and aesthetically challenged, spurred on by the vain hope of attaining the kudos attached to admission, queuing for hours before being turned away.

So come on clubbers of the world, unite and take over. Boycott these shallow bastions of waifdom, and maybe promoters will learn that their customers deserve a little respect.