Bonkers for Bingo in London

But catch me in a bingo hall? As my gran would say, not for all the tea in China.

Yet it was only a matter of time before I was swallowing my words and nodding dumbly at the request of a mate to join her birthday celebrations at a new weekly bingo night. A silver wedding anniversary, sure, but a 25th birthday party? Clearly my glamorous pal Jane had lost the plot in an early midlife crisis.

But this, I was told, wasn’t to be your average "two little ducks, 22" event. This was Midnight Underground Rebel Bingo, a hardcore bingo night, not to be taken lightly nor attended by old people or children. The dress code summed it up — "weird, flash or dangerous".

And to add to the fun it is all meant to be secret and illicit — it even poses as a vintage clothing sale to put "suspicious" types and the authorities off the scent. As Countdown’s fan base was banned and my mates all fell into at least one of the dress code categories, there was nothing left but to don our Friday best and head to the secret venue, the O2 Academy Islington.

It was 10.30pm and already a young, trendy collective in checked shirts and stilettos was queuing outside to hand over their tickets (£6 in advance, £8 on the door) and get "daubed" (the insider’s term for stamping) by the bouncer.

We made it in past the sign that was welcoming us to a vintage clothing sale (remember, this is a very, very secret affair) and were hit with a blast of Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, removing all last traces of doubt in my mind that we were joining the geriatrics for the night.

The narrow venue was already heaving, and we squeezed through the throng to pick up our £4 bingo cards and daubers — basically purple felt-tipped pens.

Give a room full of excitable boys and girls a big, tempting felt-tip each and it turns into a playground, as we couldn’t resist covering every possible inch of each other’s skin with silly pictures and rude quotes.

Comparing the drawings on our arms, I chatted with a girl called Emma who gave me some surprising news: "We come down every week! A lot of the people here are regulars." When did bingo get cool, I wondered.

I began to understand as the compere bounded on to the stage flanked by two hot burlesque dancers, and together they rocked out to the dulcet tones of Rage Against The Machine and the cheers of the audience. He roared a welcome to the group and launched into a clothes auction.

The audience had clearly done this before and enjoyed a bit of role-play, making outrageous bids for hideous dresses. I was lost but it turned out it was all a cover for the "illegal" bingo activity. Our host told us in no uncertain terms what we were really here for, and that we had to take it "pretty f**king seriously!"

The room erupted, and while the sexy callers continued to gyrate behind him, the compere outlined the rules of the game for the amateurs who didn’t know. Writer and comedian Stephen Merchant was in attendance that night, but definitely didn’t need bingo explained to him. "I’ve been going down the Mecca Bingo in Camden with the old ladies since before the game got fashionable," he told me. "Now I’m raging against the machine of conventional bingo wherever there’s a game on. No messing around."

This definitely wasn’t conventional. As the music blared, the callers yelled out wicked (and sometimes downright gross) sexual rhymes that can’t be repeated in case your gran’s reading, and when a completed bingo was finally called and a potential winner made it forward, the "you’re fired" music from The Apprentice built up the suspense while the girls checked the card.

This was nerve-wracking, as you were dealt a merciless shaming if you got it wrong, as one girl was to find out. Instead of winning a bespoke space hopper, she was banished back to her friends in fits of laughter for not getting two rows in the same box. As I said, this game is not as easy as it sounds.

The hilarity continued over three raucous rounds, until the final prize of an iPod dock was handed out. The music — a heady mixture of electro, rock and hardcore — continued to 3am until we were pushed unceremoniously towards the exit.

Still covered in graffiti we made our way discreetly back into the respectable society of Upper Street, on a high after a night of such surprisingly cool, illicit activity. Grab your marker, it’s game on tonight just leave grandma at Mecca.

●Underground Rebel Bingo Club, secret location (see rebelbingo.com), every Friday, 10.30pm-3am. £6 adv, £8 on the door.