It was midnight in the Pink Pussycat and place was jumping. DJ Gustav was mashing-up eccentric beats with soulful grooves. Homeboys lounged at the bar whilst hipster chicks cut-up the dance floor.
It was then that Big Eric took the floor and began to jive. Man, you never saw a fat man move like that.
Beneath the music a syncopated stomp grew… and grew. The basement shook and the clubbers dived for cover.
ROAAAAARR! Funkasaurus was in the house.
The DJ pulled the plug, but the funk grew louder. Riding that rhythmic, unstoppable baseline the monster burst from the club.