Earlier this week, I was sent a link to a YouTube video by a friend, featuring a topic he knew would be right up my street.

It was all about the beloved London nightclubs we raved in regularly, back in the day. Familiar, middle-aged ‘greyver’ nostalgia - very familiar.

The voiceover, spoken by an awkwardly synthetic AI voice, was a mashup of an article I wrote about the exact same five venues back in 2013, bastardised into an unsettling mélange with fragments lifted from similar pieces, including one on the clubbing history of King’s Cross by my friend and former Time Out Nightlife Editor, Dave Swindells.

Some of my (and I’m sure his) photographs were used in the video too, interspersed with strangely stretched stock imagery and file video footage scraped from all over the place, just one of many thousands more such vacuous vids popping up out there right now.

I’m used to seeing this particular story ripped off. When we originally published it on the Kentishtowner website, it became our first viral smash hit, drawing 300k global visitors in just a few days to our little website about food and culture in NW5, and delivering daily search traffic for years after.

We soon had to fend off direct cut ‘n paste jobs by other websites, and copycat ‘5 top lost nightclubs’ stories popping up everywhere, from Vice to the Daily Mail.

In this impassioned ode to the dancefloors I’d known and loved, I’d inadvertently hit upon all the elements that traffic-hungry content farms most desire: nostalgia (for lost youth), emotional engagement (to beloved former venues) , controversy (over the clubs not included) helping generate hundreds of comments, and massive shareability (between all those friends with whom one used to ‘ave it large).

But the success of the original piece was never about metrics. My aim was that the words might evoke that visceral, physical feeling of being back on those bubbling dancefloors. A reminder of what it’s like to experience a true peak of the human condition: moving to music with others, in a moment of communal effervescence.

Which is why the cynical video, devoid of soul with its faux, robot delivery complete with cringeworthy totes-emosh references to “feeling the beat”, plus the unnecessary introduction of AI hallucinations (the “windows” at the famously subterranean Turnmills, or declaring the legendary final party at The End to have been on New Year’s Eve) is just depressing.

But the worst thing about this unholy plagiarisation-fest? That basically nobody noticed.

The video (I’m not linking to it as I don’t want to give them more clicks/ad revenues, but it’s easy to find if you’re fascinated) has already been watched 26,000 in the 10 days since it went live. Of the 400+ comments, where misty-eyed nostalgics have dutifully upped the engagement by arguing over their own favourite lost clubs, ONLY ONE BLOODY PERSON CALLED IT OUT FOR BEING AI SLOP.

These commenters are ostensibly my people. They are the one’s who shared those joyous weekend maneuvers in the dripping arches of The Cross, or the sprawling playground of Bagleys. Yet these days they apparently consume content with little critical attention; a lifetime of reminiscence relegated to the latest dopamine hit in the sofa-bound scroll.

“Brilliant trip down memory lane! 5 out of 5!” commented one, enthusiastically. 😢

What concerns me is not having my work ripped off yet again (standard stuff), but that people most likely prefer this gormless video to the original long read. They need some moving images with flashing lights to tug on the emotional heartstrings these days, and an unchallengingly bland AI script? That’ll do nicely.

Just before Christmas, I was commissioned to write a pleasant enough advertorial piece about a restaurant, for a print publication in another part of London. Having conducted an hour-long interview, then written up the piece and had the designer lay out the page, I sent a PDF over for final approval.

The restaurant replied to say that their own origin story wasn’t actually the angle they had in mind, and their ‘journalist friend’ would provide some changes. What arrived next was a completely different, AI-generated feature, of which the source material seemed to be mostly a series of glowing Google reviews.

I won’t dwell on how annoying this was, (can you tell?!) but rather use it as another example to reinforce the worry that people are actually beginning to be content work - if not prefer - the sycophantic, weak prose of AI speak.

I maintain that, like any socially transformational technology, the arrival of AI itself is not to ‘blame’ for this hollowing out of our cultural, critical (and moral) compass, we’re just going to have to get a lot more interested in engaging with real human creativity and actively rejecting the synthetic onslaught, to avoid being totally swamped in mediocrity (plus lots of talented creative people out of work).

In a week where a new AI horror story breaks every day - see the lack of action over Grok deep-faking undressed kids for a particularly dystopian look at the present technofeudal malaise - we all simply have to do better with our messy adoption of these new tools.

It’s up to us be discerning, both as consumers and producers of storytelling, images, designs and projects. Let’s demand more authenticity, by default.

A little while back, I returned to the building that once housed The End nightclub, just before the wrecking ball finally swung, a full 17 years since that legendary closing party. The club’s only ever GM, Liam O’Hare, lead myself, Mr. C and Erol Alkan - two DJs forever associated with the hallowed main room booth - on a hard hat tour to video the place one last time.

We’ll release that footage soon, then doubtless watch it get copied, spread and rehashed for the next two decades as the grasping engagement vultures continue to profit from the content of others, and exploit the naivety of an attention-based online audience.

Synthetic mashups may lift and brutalise our words and images to deliver the next quick video hit, but we can also choose to engage with quality, nuance and delayed gratification - and always remember to relish dancing with our raw, true humanity instead.

🍺 It might be the ‘quietest’ time of year, but there’s plenty afoot out there. After a very thorough-looking-but-sensitive glow-up, South End Green’s classic pub, The Stag, is preparing to reopen, now under the posh auspices of Young’s.

They’ve promised to have kept much of what the regulars love about the place previously, from the roasts to the suntrap garden cabanas, but also installed some new attractions such as a dedicated upstairs party room with fridge and decks for your own musical selections. The Opening Party is on Thus 22nd Jan and booking for upcoming lunches and dinners have also just opened.

🪩 Having garnered a mass of style mag attention (and piqued the interest of many Camdenist readers too) for revitalising the art of throwing exhilarating afterhours shindigs in the West End, Lost has, er, lost its meanwhile use of the derelict former Saville Theatre. The creative venture, which went out with a big NYE bash, was always supposed to be a short and sweet moment of clandestine clubbing and cinema, but there’s clearly the appetite for more ways to get lost in authentic nightlife, so expect it to land in another abandoned space soon - if you know where to find it…

♨️ Tapping into today’s resolution-heavy vibes, King’s Cross is throwing a new three-month long wellbeing season known as The Equanimity Festival. All the estate’s mind, body and soul-focused traders (and plenty of others) are involved, with the centrepice being the return of the Slomo saunas, ice and sound baths, yoga and meditation in a giant tipi and plenty more in the middle of Lewis Cubitt Square from Thurs 15th Jan.

MUSIC: 🎶 It’s the perfect time of year for a night at Chalk Farm’s diminutive and uber-cosy Spiritual Bar, with Sat 10th Jan seeing performances from Tim Gerard, Ella Morgan and Tim Wilkes all for just £6.

DRINK: 🍸 Kentish Town’s kombucha microbrewery, Wild Is Earth, has been a confusing proposition form many months - namely, in trying to fathom when it’s actually open. But they’re finding a nice rhythm for 2026, launching weekly ‘Thirsty Thursdays’ events, featuring kombucha on tap, bottle drop-offs/collections and simple warming bites by day, then kombucha cocktails, low-intervention wines and convivial vibes around an open-mic (and percussion😬) until late. Fridays see guided tastings plus seasonal wild bites all evening, too.

READ: 📕 You’ll almost certainly love reading OnLondon founder and journo Dave Hill’s recent post, Camden Knowledge: Old & New, where he speaks with members of the Age UK Camden advisory group to hear why so many older residents absolutely love living in central London, despite the perceived wisdom that it’s not a good place for the elderly.

DANCE: 🩰 The UK’s biggest festival of new choreography, Resolution, kicks off for 2026 tonight, Fri 9th Jan, at The Place with a triple bill from Paxton Ricketts, Sana El-Wakili and Esther Cheong. It’s an opportunity to witness the boldest emerging talent in the UK dance scene right on our doorsteps from only £12 a ticket, too. Runs until 25th Feb.

CABARET: 😂 After a sold out debut last year, Unmasked 2.0: A Neurodivergent Concert takes over the iconic Phoenix Arts Club on Tues 13th Jan, spreading awareness and platforming neurodivergent voices in London’s theatre industry.

MUSIC:🪘 A special night this Sun 11th Jan at Jamboree in King’s Cross as legendary African groovesters, Kasai Masai, bringing the raw energy of Congolese folklore to the global stage, with their reputation as one of the most exciting live act in the contemporary soukous world.

EAT: 🍔 This month only, The Palomar is doing a limited-time £15 chicken schnitzel burger lunch comprising a sesame chicken schnitzel, pickled cucumber, shifka aioli, slaw, kubaneh bun. The catch? There are only 10 a day, so you need to have your gameplan tight. It runs alongside the return of their £28 three-course prix fixe January menu and a £10 glasses of Champagne.

MUSIC: 🎸 This weekend at The Imperial Palace of Big Red is a heavy metal, black metal, doom and death metal fest across two nights, as Retribution Alive presents Die January Die (Fri 9th & Sat 10th Jan) with acts including Imperium, Hammer, Molten Slag and Zero Sun: Kurataka on the billing.