Last night was Albion’s 8th Birthday party, which was celebrated with the “Demolition of Disco”: drinking, disco dancing and cavorting at the aptly named 26 Smithfield (26 Smithfield st, Smithfield).
Nick Darken was there dressed as a piece of disco hi-fi equipment whose exact significance was lost on anyone born after 1975, a costume which, in his words, was “testament to the power of a so-so idea executed with unblinking conviction and commitment” .
Andrew Edelston could have just wondered off the set of a Wes Anderson film set.
Jack Gallon was resplendent in a gold lame dress.
Even Matt Roskill was there.
The evening started with prizes.
Winner of the ” Award to the person who gets off their bum most in order to make verbal communication thereby avoiding sending another bloody email” was the very deserving Sasha.
Stevo scooped the ” Award to the person who has done most under their own initiative to make Albion a culturally richer, more inspiring, surprising and altogether less dull place to work”, and celebrated with a sailor’s jig to match his sailor’s outfit.
Petrina pocketed award for the “the person who goes above and beyond the call of duty in order to deliver team success with their happiness, their faithfullness and their gallantness as inscribed in neon on our right honourable reception wall”.
Duncan trousered – literally – ” The gutter trash award to the person most able to end up in a gutter or stranger/collegue’s bed through sheer irresponsibility and utter disregard to self or others thereby earning the term in general discussion of “disgrace”.”
After that a Frank Zappa-meets-David Bedford costumed Glyn showcased his enclycopaedic disco-inspired early 90s house music record collection which got the dancing going.
The shapes were illegal. Nick Darken’s costume, which was never the going to be the most practical of get-ups, was coming off so fast that there was some concern about whether he would stop taking off articles of clothing at all. At times the behaviour frankly scored a zero in terms of appropriateness.
And then Sonny took to the decks.
In his snazzy blazer, shirt and tie combo looking like a man with a PhD in Advanced Disco Studies, Sonny’s set tipped the leg-shaking over into an 11, and that’s out of 10.
The sheer quantity of Jose Cuervo Tradicional meant that memories thereafter are cloudy. There was a very funny drag artist. There was an even funnier moment when we made Nick Curnow think that the drag artist’s chair was a prop for him to use to perform. There were more Cuervos. There was just more. Much much more for some. To quote MJ “don’t stop till you get enough.”











