On the site of Swallow Street’s old Stork Rooms, the Cuckoo Club (note the avian theme) is more glam rock than other shiny West End clubs in London and usually, without a single beat of R&B. Inside, set over two floors with two bars, life is dark and slick – gentlemen’s club classics (such as brass-studded button-backed leather banquettes) mixed with Studio 54 disco kitsch (flashing electric-coloured LED light installations, etc.). Rock chick waitresses serve the secluded dens around the dance floor, while back-to-back floorfillers – be they retro (Prince, T-Rex, Blondie) or the biggest indie rock tunes – uproot the able. The vibe is more like a private party – so it’s no surprise that entry is so micro-managed (although the Euro crowd seems to have considerable rights here). Officially it’s a members’ club, but non-members can, well, wing it – on weekdays, try your luck in the queue (dress cool, be cool, ruffle no feathers), but there’s no walk-in trade at the weekend – try booking a restaurant table (the earlier the easier). Be aware that you will be vetted – so be armed with a chic-sounding job and rockerati associations.