Mr Ambar Niteclub




Toby aka DJ Trap Kid, is eagerly awaiting tonights rinse at Ambar. He has already sent out “pump up” messages to his “squad”, “ready to get battered and bruised on the ones and twos BRAP BRAP. P.s. got pingers”. 

He adjusts the floppy rim on his bucket hat while updating his Soundcloud account with a new Trap track that he fumbled together on Fruity Loops. He has a pirated copy of Ableton but if he is being honest with himself, he finds the program baffling and beyond his “Trap Skillz”. But enough hating, DJ Trap Kid is superstar seedling that will grow to great heights once the dog of reality stops pissing on him.

Toby and his squad start pre-drinking at a mates house in Mount Lawley. The host has his Technics out and is mixing some god awful shit that he produced in collaboration with DJ Trap Kid. The entire squad pretend to enjoy the turnt out tunez and eagerly await their own 10 minute bash on the Technics. 

Toby is now in his full rinser attire: bucket Hat, Black Street X longsleeve, Nike Roshes and the pockets of his jeans are stuffed with Vicks Inhalers and pingers. He gets behind the Technics and drops the unofficial hottest track of November 2014: it sounds like a Skrillex song if played through a blender full of talentless Ibiza fuckboy jizz.

Toby and the squad arrive at Ambar already 2 pingers down. Toby runs into every other aspiring Soundcloud DJ in Perth in the alleyway and chain smokes Pete Stuyvesants like a Carhartt sponsorship depended on it. 

Hours pass and Toby is still dribbling furious shit into the ears of anyone who will listen in the alleyway. Forcing people to take down the link to his Soundcloud in their mobile phones. One of the members of his squad comes and finds him, “brah, we’re rinsing, you gotta come down”. Oh Toby certainly will come down, when the euphoric high of his 5 pingers ends and the morning sunrise of cold hard dopamine deficiency dawns on him.

Inside Ambar, Toby starts “rinsing”: a chaotic dance craze characterised by violent two stepping in the style of a methamphetamine induced rabbit that is humping the shit out of some sluttier rabbit. Sweat is dripping from his face as he slams back bottles of water and poses for endless photos with his squad. 

Toby is not concerned with the potential consequences of having hundreds of gurn-shots plastered over the internet. He is way too turnt for that. After 30 minutes of rinsing Toby needs some oxygen. It’s back to the alleyway for another 10 cigarettes and as many nangs as he can get down.

Toby eventually ends up back at the Mount Lawley house for a hearty session of bongs and loved up banter. They all assure each other that they will be big time traplords and express their sincere love for each other. 4 hours later they will awake and resent each other for even speaking: the gift of ecstasy.

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