Tea for two in Berlin

As a Brit living in Germany, asking for a coffee occasionally produces the most horrendous results.

I'm offered a drink at a mate's: "Splendid idea, old chap," I pipe up, "You know, I think I'll have a cup of coffee." At this point, said mate buzzes and hops, clearly overcome by a flash of inspiration, waits, as all good comedians do for timing purposes, and then blurts out the 21st century's greatest witticism: "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have tea? Raa haa haa!"

Maybe it's just my circle of friends, but so many people seem to think I arrived in Berlin fresh out of the year 1880 and have to take a break from work on the plantation promptly at 3:00 pm to have a refreshing cuppa and a spot of croquet with the Duchess.

Of course, these days the sun does set on the British Empire and a Brit can happily get through a 24-hour period without going anywhere near a box of PG Tips. The outdated tea-related humor is a bit wearisome and the importance of this drink in British culture has been massively overplayed. But perhaps I shouldn't speak too soon because a very British institution has just arrived in Berlin and is already gaining a foothold among the city's glitterati.

Elite British club opens in Berlin

Soho House, an exclusive members club, has modernized the age-old tradition of British gentleman's clubs where politicians and economists used to sit dozing over The Times, tuck into three quarters of a cow and then drink brandy until their livers exploded. Incidentally, these were the guys running the country, so it's little wonder the British Empire went belly up.

I digress. Berlin's Soho House is located in what used to be the offices of then President of East Germany Wilhelm Pieck on the corner of Torstrasse and Prenzlauer Allee in the heart of the centrally-located Mitte district. Curious to know what all the bally fuss was about, I decided to go along and have a poke around.

On the grounds that anything which bears the tag "exclusive" must by definition be full of tossers, I was determined not to enjoy myself and hate the place immediately, so, rather than dress for the occasion, I decided to turn up there looking like a scarecrow which had just been dug out of a grave.

Sadly, my shambling in there with a half-smoked cigarette behind my ear and yesterday's breakfast splattered down my shirt didn't even raise an eyebrow. Then I caught sight of the massive new Damien Hirst print on the wall and realized that if Hirst and his cronies are hanging out here, the receptionists are probably used to scruffy, obnoxious cretins. Incidentally, the picture is of a shark and looks like it was spray-painted by a toddler; given that it bears the magic Hirst signature I'm sure it's now worth more than Germany's GDP.

Much ado about nothing

Admittedly, the Berlin branch of Soho House is very impressive to look at. Or at least it will be. I needn't have bothered trying to look like a scruff bag because the place was crawling with dusty primate builders anyway. About 75 percent of the building is operational; all the guest rooms are open and the upper floors which house the brasserie and rooftop pool are in order. It is the lower floors with the forthcoming restaurant, former political office rooms and obligatory library which still resemble building sites.

But the concept is interesting: Each Soho House is designed to reflect the host city. There are several in the UK, as well as New York and Hollywood. In Berlin's case, they've got the plush velvet and leather furniture; original contemporary art pieces set it all against a barren, concrete industrial look complete with metal staircases and sturdy emergency lights. Think Buckingham Palace meets Berghain and you're about there.

But what's all the fuss about? Well, nothing really. Stylish as it may be, Soho House isn't any better or worse than any other five-star hotel. What makes Soho House different is the membership rule. They've basically made something out of nothing. Slap on the exclusive, Members Only tag and every idiot in town who assumes "expensive equals good" comes running, slavering all over their Armani trousers in the meantime.

Berliners scramble to join before club's completion

The club has around 15,000 members worldwide but their identities are a closely guarded secret. In the few weeks the Berlin house has been operational, it is has managed to amass around 800 local members. But who the dickens are these people? They're almost certainly not from my circle of hilarious tea-jokers. For a start, no one I know could afford the 100-euro ($124) a month membership fee.

The fact remains that Soho House appears to be off to a flying start even before they've finished building the place, which either means it is super hip and I'm not. Or, people with more money than sense flock to anything expensive like flies around a cow pat.

As a member of the media scene, I am indeed eligible for membership. But do I want to sign on the dotted line and join the hallowed inner circle of Soho House members? Not on your life. I'm far too busy planning the expansion of the Empire to bother with guff like that. And if my plans to retake our territories and install global tea plantations fail then I swear I'm going to get a job in a swanky restaurant just so that the next time some German orders duck a la presse I can cheekily ask, "Are you sure don't want the currywurst? Ha ha ha ha!"

When he's not working for Deutsche Welle's English Service, Gavin Blackburn occasionally likes a cup of Earl Grey.

Editor: Kate Bowen