The two teams leave a “corridor of death” between them and basically take pot shots at each other. If you get grabbed and taken in to the opposition’s side you are in deep doo doos and you’re lucky if you escape at all. They aren’t allowed weapons, that’s pretty much the only rule. There are security dude that patrol the corridor and if things are getting out of hand, or if the bouncers see something they don’t like, you can expect to be bull whipped and hit with sticks. And if you retaliate it’s well known that you’ll be taken outside and murdered there and then. Opposing teams refer to each other, amusingly, as “Germans”, probably a reference to US WWII movies.

The number of guys and gals smashed to bits permanently can only be estimated, but over the decades, numbers are probably in their thousands. But no one knows and no one cares. They’re poor kids killing poor kids so no one gives a frig, as per usual.

These gangs of funkeiros have been doing this for years, and tens of thousands of hopeless kids were rocking up at them every weekend. But because they were taking place in the slums the police couldn’t or wouldn’t stop them. They didn’t have the man power or the balls to get stuck in. Fair enough. Also, of course, there is rife drug thuggery down there and a high chance that the feds were bribed off the scent too.

The Baile-Funk clubs only really became noticed as a problem for the upper classes in ’93 when one of the battles spewed out on to a beach in a classy part of town, it’s profile was consequently raised and the clubs were sent even deeper underground. Now they are often set up in residential areas where babies and oldies live. But who’s going to complain to a one thousand strong gang of violent, drug fueled little bleeders? Not I.