Freddie Mercury of Queen held a party in New Orleans in 1978, which featured nude waiters and waitresses, a man biting heads off live chickens, naked models wrestling in a liver pit, and dwarves walking around with trays of cocaine strapped to their heads.

Fortified by “lines of marching powder as long and as thick as your grandmother’s arm”, the guests are free to choose from a menu of exotic diversions.

The hotel ballrooms, made up to resemble labyrinthine jungle swamps, are swarming with magicians, Zulu tribesmen, contortionists, fire-eaters, drag queens and transsexual strippers. Drinks are served by naked waiters and waitresses who politely request that any tips are placed not on trays but in bodily crevices.

Naked dancers cavort in bamboo cages suspended from ballroom ceilings. Nude models of both sexes wrestle in huge baths of shimmering, uncooked liver, while 300lb Samoan women lounge on banquet tables, smoking cigarettes from various orifices.

As a bonus, visitors to the hotel’s grand marble bathrooms are orally serviced by prostitutes of both sexes.

“Most hotels offer their guests room service,” quips a passing Mercury. “This one offers them lip service.”