Gimme Gimme Gimme has become somewhat of a battle cry to the twenty-somethings of London. And so it is at Electric Brixton where several hundred of them form a disorderly queue halfway to the tube station.

You have to be physically prepared for any event that starts at 10pm. The last time the night began at this time, we caught my mate standing fast asleep in the mens toilets. Five years on and we probably aren’t too far from reenacting that scene.

Did you know ABBA released a new album last year? Well, I can say with certainty that 80% of the party goers don’t know that. They don’t need to. This is a chance to show off the fancy dress box’s finest flares and dance to their mum’s party anthems.

Intriguingly, it’s my girlfriend’s second ABBA event in two weeks. It seems to be the perfect excuse for a grand old piss up; as if it needed an ulterior motive.

Inside, the DJ blasts out the compulsory 70s disco records of CHIC, Sister Sledge, Bee Gees and the like before the ABBA tribute band enters stage at 1am. The only time I witnessed a more energised crowd than this was at Asda on Black Friday.

The act, who could have actually been ABBA from my memory, opens with Mamma Mia and then churn through the classics. We even enjoy a rendition of Hung Up by Madonna, scoring points for unexpectedness and giving the people more of the sting they came for.

Music aside, it has the lot. Someone’s having fun with their new confetti gun as it’s firing off every ten minutes (I’ll be finding the confetti in my pockets for weeks to come) and the indoor fireworks are lighting up the sweaty faces at the front. 

There’s arms all over the place. Mainly from the blokes, who at one point, formed the chorus for Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Speaking of chorus, at one point the whole venue erupts into ‘Happy Birthday’ with a muffled ‘toOOoo blughreghmhmmm’ as everyone sings someone else's name (happy birthday, Laura, mate), but with the amount of energy in the room it could have easily been everyones.

The celebrations just keep escalating as hits keep coming and next thing you know I’ve got my girlfriend on shoulders whose head’s in the confetti clouds and comes down looking like she just got married.

I can’t recall much of what happens next, but am reliably informed* that it involves me dancing like Patrick Swayze, screaming some of the funniest jokes to grace the Earth directly into the ears of my pals and singing every word of ABBA correctly from the back of the room.

Anyway, got to go, I’ve got a Mamma Mia brunch at 12.

*my 3am notes.