Having been to a B-themed house party dressed as a buccaneer beforehand, I was suffering from a mild crisis of identity as I travelled to the Bridge on Friday night.

My outfit was complete with an eye-patch, a plastic pirate sword and a tattoo on my arm of an anchor with the caption underneath Ye Olde Salty Sea Dog. This was all topped off with what some might have described as an offensively tight T-shirt.

I was mildly apprehensive because I had a fairly good idea of the clientele who attend The Bridge; I hadn't got a chance in hell of getting past the bouncers, let alone fitting in once inside.

So momentarily the eye patch was thrust into my pocket and the sword concealed beneath my jacket, and lo and behold - the bouncers were fooled into thinking I was dressed appropriately, and politely wished me a good night.

The Bridge on a Friday night could be filmed for a BBC documentary, Wildlife on One style. Narrated by David Attenborough, the programme would give a detailed exposé on the drinking habits and odd mating rituals of the several distinct - yet very different - species of weekend clubber that this place seems to attract.

There are Spanish students by the coachload; here in Oxford to learn English, I found they had all been told that The Bridge was the place to be by their enthusiastic tutors. Conspiracy theories revolving around the word commission' raced through my head!

Wondering what was causing the look of bewilderment on so many of their faces, I asked one of them what their first impressions of the club were.

The reply was that they had been expecting a much larger venue, and were all of the clubs in Oxford this small? I could only respond with a one-word answer.

Then there's the infamous Bridge-style poser'. This special breed is most likely to be found in the VIP lounge quaffing Champagne and looking down their noses. When the time is right, they strike the dance floor with upper-middle class precision.

The men barge people out of the way and the women lack grace and beauty as they dangle off the pole on the upstairs dance floor, unreasonably convinced of their own prowess, and making it very difficult for the girls who are actually good at pole dancing to have a go.

There were a lot of genuine people there too; notably a large group of riotous South African guys who slurred incoherent nonsense at us in a hilarious manner until we could take no more! Once my friends arrived I drank, danced and talked my night away in the company of girls dressed as ballerinas and Betty Boop.

The DJs cranked the tempo up with Bodyrox feat. Luciana and we ran for the floor; I haven't heard that song in a club for a good few months and when I do I go a bit crazy.

I've had some great nights at The Bridge, and also some terrible ones. This was somewhere in between! All night I couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't quite right, and then it clicked; it wasn't a Saturday! Saturday night at The Bridge brings better music and beautiful people in plentiful supply.

So there you have it; I've been to The Bridge on a Friday night, so that you don't have to.