30 Apr 2021

You cannot change my mind on this and even if you disagree, deep down, you know that there is nothing better, nothing at all, than chugging down a cup of cheap cordial and smashing down a pack of chips, lips burning if you chose salt and vinegar, and rushing back to the d-floor so you don’t miss any bangers.

The boys wearing camouflage, surf shirts and backwards caps and the girls wearing supre and fluro accessories would all re-snap their glow sticks, assemble with their best mates and then SEND IT to Mambo no. 5. I can still hear the OI OI OI!!!! in my dreams.

You will have tonnes of amazing nights. Festivals, parties, gigs, movie marathons and dates, but I’m here to prepare you for the truth and try to rip off that bandaid sooner rather than later. Those nights will never ever compare to your primary school disco. 

The joy that would overtake your soul when you and your mates did the nut bush can't ever be beaten. Nothing can come close to the rush you’d get from playing tag in the school hall decorated in tacky streamers and balloons and a DJ on the stage knowing that he’s really made it. Screw playing to thousands at a festival. These seven years old, all high as hell, (from the sugar-filled cordial, Jesus) are the rowdiest crowd of all. They scream for more and literally cry when it's over, depressed when their parents pick them up.

The sugar drunk state gave us all the confidence to find love on the d-floor. We'd keep looking for our crush and maybe even pull! The pair of you would peck each other on the cheek as everyone huddled around you two, cheering, screaming and pushing the pair of you around. That was the peak of love. You'd probably even be named a couple for a few years even if you never talked again.

Look, I never wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but it's true, everyone's lives peak during primary school discos. All we can do is try to get as close as possible to the euphoria that came from that d-floor and if all else fails, blast Mambo no. 5 and buy some glow sticks.