Richard Bell has a fine old time at Kukui in Park End Street, Oxford.

I recently had to explain the significance of wearing poppies to an American student here for a semester abroad.

It was a strange experience, and I’m not sure I did a particularly good job.

Of course I told her about the anniversary of Armistice Day, about Flanders Fields, about the blood red adorning our lapels to serve as a visual mark of respect and remembrance for Britain’s war dead, but really I think my best tool of explanation was probably asking whether or not she had seen the final episode of Blackadder (she hadn’t).

As Remembrance is one of the most important dates in our calendar, I felt curiously incapable to get across the significance of the occasion. Conversely a date I had no trouble explaining whatsoever was Halloween.

America does Halloween much better than we do, or at least that’s what TV and movies have me believing, but that doesn’t mean we don’t give it a good go.

Over the weekend of October 31, every club in Oxford had creepy crawlies and spooky things hanging from every corner of their venues that weren’t already covered by that cobwebby stuff (which, I should imagine, most places are still trying to get rid of).

We decided to spend our time at Kukui on the Friday before, and of course they had followed suit and kitted the whole club out in ghostly garb.

My favourite piece of which was the genuinely terrifying spider hanging by the dance floor, which continually scared my socks off throughout the night.

Bizarrely Kukui’s Tiki theme went very well with the traditional Halloween decorations. Though of course the rainforest isn’t nearly this crowded, but then nor are most clubs in Oxford.

I was honestly amazed at the amount of people enjoying the club on that particular night. Hell, it seemed as though a large proportion of the city had crammed themselves through its doors.

Now Halloween brings with it some staples that we see year in, year out.

First is a near perfect symmetrical proportion of excellent and awful costumes; then a rarely before seen level of drunken excess leading to hilarious still-costumed walks of shame; and finally it’s that ghoulish dance floor anthem Thriller by Michael Jackson, and all three were - no great surprise - rolled out.

Kukui isn’t a complicated club and nor does it have any desire to be. It has no interest in niche nights and while sometimes that can seem like a bit of a shame, here it makes perfect sense.

It’s a swell club and nearly always guarantees a great night out.