RIP Pryzm: The provincial nightclub is dying – what a loss for youngsters with fake IDs

I’ll never forget my first time. The rush of adrenaline as he slowly looked me up and down, in my bootcut jeans and a “Nice Top” combo; paused with an aching air of inevitability; asked the question I’d known in my heart was coming.

“ID, please.”

Palms sweaty, I handed it over – the passport with the date of birth that proved the holder was, contrary to her baby-faced appearance, 19 years of age.

The bouncer looked at the picture. Looked at me. Back to the picture. Back to me.

“Date of birth?”

I was ready for this