Club Rules

We used to throw parties in a church hall. At the end of the night we would hang out in the basement. The church grannies had a bingo kit stored there, and one night we started messing around with it. We were drunk. We knew it was wrong, but it felt good. Things got out of control, and it ended up as a mental bingo party. It was amazing. Better than sex. Better than real life. It was dangerous. We weren't supposed to be there, in the basement, and we definitely weren't supposed to be experimenting with bingo. We had found somewhere we belonged. Somewhere we could do what we wanted to, where noone was watching. We called it The Underground Rebel Bingo Club.

We started meeting more and more. People would ask us about it, but we had to keep it secret, otherwise the jig would be up. But eventually we decided we wanted more people to feel the way we were feeling. To be a part of it. We moved the club upstairs to the church hall. It went totally mental. People were dancing on tables, screaming and drawing on each other. Hundreds of people started turning up every week, but we still had to hide what we were doing from the church, so we disguised what was going on the whole time. Eventually we got rumbled by the church warden and we got kicked out of the church hall. But we couldn't let it stop. We needed it. So now we operate in secret locations, all over the place.

Rebel Bingo is dangerous and addictive. The authorities are after us. They want to shut us down. But we won't let them. Our numbers are growing. We're spreading across the country. You won't see us but we're everywhere. You won't hear us but we're right behind you. We're everywhere and nowhere, but wherever we are we're playing dirty, hardcore muthafuckin Rebel Bingo on the down low.

We know it's wrong.

But it feels so right.

And they can't stop us.