I had meticulously planned the weekend just gone, with Friday, Saturday and Sunday all promising a particular party to redeem the long, turgid week I had endured. As often is the case though, a pre-packed weekend didn't yield exactly what I expected. The intention for Friday involved Funkyzeit's 1st Birthday with Deniz Kurtel and Jozif at some unannounced warehouse in Aldgate. Unfortunately, I didn't spend the early hours grooving to Wolf + Lamb's finest, ultimately making it no further than the pavement of Brick Lane without a phone or a clue where I or my friends were. Saturday was slightly more productive, at the very least because I retrieved my phone, but also because I made it through the night with some recollection of my whereabouts, which ironically was back on Brick Lane. I had intended to check out the Lo*kee Loves Harry Klein gig at Crucifix Lane, but for certain reasons that became difficult, so a slightly quieter night at The Big Chill was in order.

Sunday went exactly to plan, and thank goodness because WetYourSelf's birthday bash at fabric was one of the most thrilling, if surreal events I've had the pleasure witnessing for some time. Sundays at fabric have been in the hands of the WYS crew for 4 years now, providing those of us desperately clinging on to the weekend with one more dose of extreme hedonism before we retire to the mundane routine of the week. Now in all honesty, I usually retire after the antics of Saturday, which are usually sapping enough if they have followed a well-spent Friday. But with M-nus's Marc Houle headlining, Sunday night in my dressing gown, sipping tea as I aimlessly think about the last 24 hours would have to be postponed. Sure I was physically drained, even though the previous two nights had been far from epic standards, but the prospect of finishing off the week in fabric, in the solitary Room One with one of Richie Hawtin's pupils providing the tunes was one I couldn't turn down. I was aware of WetYourSelf's reputation as fabric's 'polysexual' night, but if there's one thing I've learned from my time immersed in London's underground community it's those dancing around you are no different from yourself. Broadly speaking they are there for very much the same reasons as you and the notion of a 'gay night' is entirely academic with regards to your enjoyment. Sure, if you looked hard enough you could tell the crowd was perhaps slightly more left-field even for fabric's standards, but the majority of those who packed out Room One were just the long-stayers of London's loyal techno followers.

Until around 7am on Monday morning, as suited City workers made their way through Farringdon to begin their week number crunching, the WYS residents, alongside a top-form Houle who couldn't keep away from the decks, even after his 2 hour slot at around 3am, kept a feverishly excited crowd rocking, despite the physical restraints of 3 successive nights of partying which was the case for most in there. The music was phenomenal. Although labeled as the same music policy as Saturday, there was noticeably more electro influences, expertly whipped-up with the underlying minimal narrative of the whole night. Houle began his set with Butch's adrenaline-soaked Quiet Storm', which set the pace perfectly, the omission of bass keeping everyone on their toes before the floor began rumbling away with more regimented, bassy minimal. Around mid-way through his set, Houle's own brilliant Borrowed Gear was undoubtedly the climax of his knotted journey of bass and bleeps, bouncing in with all that M-nus hazy minimalism.

The WYS residents, Cormac and Jacob Husley seamlessly took the ropes after Houle with more demented, skeletal beats as Room One still simmered with the same level of excitement and enthusiasm as when we first entered, right until the end when the those left to their remarkable demise finally had to kiss the weekend good night. Sunday nights in London are unique and fascinating on several levels. There are a handful of underground venues that don't just throw Sunday night parties, but take a considerable amount of care and dedication in making them special, rather than just a noisy bass-pool for the sleep deprived. WetYourSelf had a far more intimate, friendly ambiance than your average Saturday night at fabric. Sure, with only the one room open intimacy would always be enhanced to some extent, but the jovial, carnival-like flavour of the night owed more to the crowd than just to the small size of the dancefloor. Sunday night revelers all share the desire to just have fun and a limitless passion for music and the glory of underground culture. It is this what gives Sunday nights all over London, but specifically WetYourSelf, such a lovable identity. I could may well make a habit of this, especially considering I have Mondays off...