For music and dance music especially Paris is the place. Excellent house nights rule but there is more. Disco freaks, glam fans and Evisu-clad clubbers from la peripherique alike are worshipping The Rhythm Divine at Le Disco Inferno, held at the Queen on the salubrious Champs Elysees on every monday. This is truly something to scream about being no tired Camp Attack in the fashion of Astoria of London. Instead of the boring old Bee Gees and Kool and The Gang cuts Queens massive soundsystem blasts Give Me Love by Cerrone, Alexandrie Alexandra by Claude Francois and Walking on Music by Peter Jacques Band. The huge crowd stumbles around, pushes into the dancefloor smoking cigarettes and sings along as confetti rains and lights flash. People unable to squeeze on the main floor dance on stairways and by the bar. Two girls in sexy dresses and an Ali G lookalike guy gyrate on podiums to Chase by Giorgio Moroder. Stars such as Amanda Lear perform live. The disco vibe continues during the week as promo bashes for the likes of Africanism by Bob Sinclair draw capacity crowds. For sheer energy and enthusiasm and FUN there are doubtlessly few better clubs anywhere. Loco a few kilometres north at Pigalle could be in the same league – again, the disco nights are killers.

If the Queen and the Loco are the large ones the Kerozine just of the Bastille on Rue Roquette is the dirt cheap and cheerful and very tiny alternative, nearly as entertaining. The Flight 51 nights feature a dj spinning Frenchie pop and disco and the crowd spills to the sidewalk, boogeying to Alexandrie Alexandra. This tune seems like a sort of an anthem in France. There is a Claude Francois dvd out called Dance Party but beware, the fab 70s segments are rudely interrupted by tacky modern dancers trying to keep up with Claude and his backup dancers The Glodettes. A shame really as without the new clips the comp would have been a pitch perfect celebration of outre hairdos, spectacular costumes, odd dance moves and very good songs.

Le Depot near Etienne Marcel metro station, right by the stores selling Dolce and Cabbana and next to a police headquarters, pumps disco flavoured house and handbag tunes. While les filles are permitted to enter and people do dance most of the (male) punters are openly doing something else. This is beyond Sodom and Gomorrah and not for those who just think they have seen it all. The main floor was okay but then I had one look at the basement, smelled the air, looked what flowed around and took my bow.

Ah, Paris. Dj superstars like Joe Clausell perform on weekly basis. Kong restaurant has the latest interior designed by Starck. Colette has the coolest cafe and sells nearly everything one needs in her or his apartment apart from vintage vinyl. The actual vinyl stores are great, though. From Samad I found a curious pressing of Costandinos Trocadero Bleu Citron, meaning the title track is sung in French instead of English and is very differently and more intricately orchestrated than on my old copy. From Silly Melodies I emerged triumphant with the Line Renaud version of Copacabana at The Copa. Line is apparently a 70-something cabaret veteran but far more vivacious than say Ethel Merman was.

Do yourself a favour and book your flights now.