It's dark, it's musty, it's brimming with artsy melancholy. Yeah, there's no wax on the lanes, but what are you, some kind of wuss? Behold! The manual ball return! Marvel at the genuine pin boys! (Yes, you have to convince someone to be your pin boy yourself, but come on. Use your demonic thrall. It isn't that hard.) Electricity is minimal, and if all that ain't goth enough for you, take a step outside and behold the Blair Witch Projectyness of your woodland surroundings. If you're itching to bowl, be sure to plan ahead. Last time I was there the alley was unusable due to an installation of spooky disappearing families. And isn't that how we like 'em best?

No shoe rentals, no overpowering french fry vapours, no pre-pay or macarena nightmares. But there's only two ways to get in, enfants de soir, so listen up: devote your life to art or devote your life to someone who's devoted theirs to it. Oh, but it is so worth it.