The acceptable face of all-inclusive offers?

I'll come clean. I went with the intention of writing a certain article. I mean, £5 for all you can drink on a Wednesday night must be irresponsible, right?

I went to write a story about a hideous example of binge drinking, of people downing shots, of people fighting, of people puking and of people so drunk they couldn't stand up. In the end, I couldn't write that article. I have to be true, honest and fair to what I witnessed.

And while several of my undercover journalist colleagues from the nationals will, no doubt, report on how much drink they were served for their £5, is that really fair?

For the record I was served four pints of beer, five bottles of beer and four vodka Red Bulls over my four-hour stint at Escapade in Newport. But is that the point? What chance did the bar staff have?

The vast majority of my drinks were poured down the toilet, as probably were the drinks of the other journalists there. So, therefore, I was not staggering, I was not slurring and I was not exhibiting any signs of being intoxicated. So why shouldn't I have been served?

If you factor in that there were three different bars with at least three different staff on each, unless you were being served by the same person each time, there is no chance they knew how much I was served.

From the start to the finish at 3am, the staff at Escapade were the best trained I have ever seen. No doubt, due to the media coverage, they stepped their game up, but even so it was impressive.

I queued in the rain for an hour to get into the club run by Nexum Leisure. There were two door staff monitoring the queue, which had been barricaded off from the street so people could still pass. The queue was orderly, aside from one of the door staff letting four of his mates jump to the front, but no-one seemed to mind.

One guy next to me in the queue told me it was an "awesome" night last week. He advised me: "The queue for the bar is massive, though, so when you get in, order two or three drinks at a time.

"It should get better at about 1.30am as some people leave because they have work the next day."

As we were now drenched he added: "It makes me think if it is worth it, but you can't knock a few drinks for £5 can you? It's too good to miss."

Another said to me: "I'm so excited. I'm gonna get badly pissed."

I was wondering what the hold-up was to get into the club. Surely it wasn't full already?

From the start to the finish at 3am, the staff at Escapade were the best trained I have ever seen. No doubt, due to the media coverage, they stepped their game up, but even so it was impressive.​

But no, it was just taking time to go through the correct procedures to get people in.

Once inside, and soaked to the skin, I was asked to take everything from my pockets with staff searching through everything and was then patted down.

I paid my £5 at the till and then we were stopped by manager Steve Dew. He briefed each customer in groups of three of what would and would not be tolerated on the evening. He was also checking ID for a second time, in case anyone had been missed.

Unfortunately there was one idiot in my group of three who thought he did not need to know and tried to push past Dew. He was firmly rebuked and told to listen. Still he persisted. Dew called security and he was thrown out with a refund of the £5 he had just paid.

"We don't need that sort in here tonight, especially with all the media attention," he told me.

Bar scrum​

The deal was you get a drinks voucher and you exchange that at the bar for your first drink. From then on, you return your glass or bottle to get another drink. If you lose your glass that is it — you pay another £5. Often, with these deals a token effort is made to provide food, but not here.

"There will be no drinking at the bar and no downing of drinks," Dew informed us.

The bar was an absolute scrum as I entered at around 11pm. I tried to keep hold of my ticket so I could get two drinks but the staff were insistent, so I handed it over. Posters plastered against the back bar clearly explained the rules.

On offer were pints of Kronenbourg, Foster's or Strongbow, bottles of Foster's, San Miguel or Stella Artois and a few spirits such as vodka and whisky. There were soft drinks like Red Bull, Coke, Sprite and also bottled water.

There was no wine on offer but you could buy a bottle of champagne for £5. All pints were served in polycarbonate glasses as were spirits and mixers. But the bottles were still glass. At the start it was actually quite a challenge to get served so I could get my £5 worth.

From 11pm to around 12.30am, the majority of people did not stray too far from one of the bars so they could queue easily for a refill.

Come 1.30am, people had started leaving and those that were left had almost stopped drinking and had instead flocked to the dance floor to bop to a mixture of cheese, current chart tracks and some R'n'B. One bar stayed open until about 10 minutes from the end.

The door supervisors at Escapade were razor sharp, almost military in their efficiency at removing anyone who made the slightest false move. It was definitely zero tolerance.​

I tried to get staff to not follow orders all night but they stuck to their guns. I ordered two drinks but was told I must have two glasses and the other person must be with me. I swiped an empty bottle left on a table and tried to get two drinks, only to be told that it was one person, one drink.

I ordered a double vodka but was told only singles were being served and that I must have a mixer with it.

I was just about to say that I had lost my glass, when someone beat me to it — a genuine case. Tough, was the answer from staff. You will have to share a friend's glass or pay another £5.

One person, who kicked up a fuss was immediately escorted away from the bar by the watching security. The door supervisors at Escapade were razor sharp, almost military in their efficiency at removing anyone who made the slightest false move. It was definitely zero tolerance.

A guy tripped down one of the two stairs to the dance floor — gone.

A guy stumbled back off a stool — gone. A guy abused a member of bar staff — gone. A guy pushing through people at the bar — gone.

Atmosphere​

Throughout the night I personally saw six people being removed from the club. The supervisors were everywhere. They were at every bar, they were watching every corner of the dance floor and they were also circling the club.

I must say I was apprehensive, to say the least, at going to an all-you-can-drink club on my own. But there was never a threatening atmosphere. In fact, when people noticed me on my own, they came and chatted to me.

One guy, a grave digger by trade, said that the "bouncers" here were "Fu***rs" — they won't let you do anything, he told me.

I asked if he had work in the morning. Yeah, but I'm working with dead people, he chuckled. It did make me wonder who these people were at the club? At the peak there were around 200 mostly aged between 18 and 25. They were not students as there was a separate floor for them, accessible only with an NUS card. Surely they had work the next day?

I know, at 28, my youth is edging away but there is no way I could get up and do my job properly after being at a club drinking until 3am.

I did not see a fight at the club or afterwards in the street, when the door supervisors continued their military operation of moving people on. In fact, it seemed the youth of Newport were more intent on making love, not war.

With a half hour to go, I approached the toilet to pour away another drink and a young guy ran in and started wretching into the urinal. He puked up a purple-looking fluid — cider and black,