Given that Klute hasn't been reviewed in years and given that it has changed a bit since then, I think it's time to give it a bit of a go.

In one sense, Klute is a student only nightclub located in a refurbished boat house next to Elvet Bridge in Durham. As the story goes, an FHM reporter came to review the club and got stuck in one of the all too frequent hour-long queues before being turned away. Given this treatment he was quick to vote it the second worst nightclub in Europe. The story then goes on to say that the Eastern European hovel with the privilege of being first burned down soon after, thus making Klute the worst nightclub in Europe. This is a label which it has not only accepted, but embraced and exploited much to the delight of the student population of Durham.

The club itself it poky, the bars are stocked with little more than vodka, the playlist remains the same for six months at a time and stubbornly changes to cheese at midnight, the dance floor hinders movement, the walls drip with sweat and touching the floor might prove hazardous to your health - but far from being negative points, this is why we LOVE Klute. Klute is more than just the building, it is a frame of mind!
Regular college nights allow hordes of drunken students the chance to mingle with acquaintances and come away with friends, if only for the next few hours given that memories might be the worse for wear the next morning. This is all completed under a haze of Quaddie - Klute's infamous drink which sees double vodka and cranberry meet double vodka and orange for the paltry sum of four hundred pennies. Entry to the club on a non-college night usually comes in at about the same price with some nights costing more and others less.

The music is somewhere between Wensleydale and Stilton, at least after midnight when you can expect Abba medley to walk hand in hand with numbers from High School Musical. In fact, so predictable is the playlist that it is entirely possible to sing along without stopping for the final two hours. The hours leading up to midnight now play a refreshing mix of modern chart masterpieces, and in the most un-Klute like fashion you are able to make requests.

Being able to dance to this music is another matter entirely, and an unpredictable one as well, given that on some nights you'll have the entire dancefloor to yourself whereas on others you can dance in a way known only to sardines and other canned goods.

The night inevitably finishes to a rousing rendition of 'That's Amore' where everybody is friends with everybody else and everybody gets with everybody else, leading to quite a few shocks when the lights do go on. After this revelatory moment it is not uncommon to drown your sorrows with chips from Janes' next door, as much an institution as Klute is.

In conclusion, Klute is the best of places and the worst of places. Go there on the right night and you'll be offered fun beyond compare with close friends and friendly faces. Choose the wrong night and you'll be charged a fiver to battle with strangers for the chance to be savaged on the dancefloor. Regardless, this place is well worth the visit, if only to say that you've been to the worst nightclub in Europe.