Rewrite
The imprint of Universal and renowned party starters are making a habit of signing the most exciting new artists, and putting on the kookiest shindigs in East London. Ben Tibbits attends one of their famed nights and meets the team behind Boys Boys Boys.
I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sick of clubbing. Sure, when I was a foolish young buck with Bieber-esque hair and crippling ego, the sticky floors and indie sing-alongs of Birmingham’s tackiest paradise, Snobs, carried an allure of lost romanticism and formative hedonism. But since I’ve moved South, gotten older, more cynical and generally harder to please, it has become increasingly difficult to stomach a night out on the town.
I’m tired of some random geezer with a swinging jaw jumping in front of me in the bathroom queue. I’m done with awkwardly swaying from side-to-side to music that I have to pretend to enjoy because I shelled out £20 for a ticket. I’m over taking out a small mortgage to order a Negroni. I’m fed up with developing emphysema the next day because I’ve spent two-thirds of the night before outside smoking to avoid the aforementioned cumbersome dancing. My back hurts just thinking about it.
So am I just getting boring, or is there something deeper here? Is nightlife in need of a serious shake-up? The club culture that those of a certain age who grew up in the UK once knew and worshipped is heading for a slow WKD-fuelled demise. For the sake of the event industry, and those filling – or not filling – up its dancefloors, we need a reframing, a renaissance, a revolution.
But there’s life in the old dog yet. Boys Boys Boys showed me that.
Let’s wind back a few months. It’s still big coat weather, a chilly Friday evening after a long week of drinking too much coffee and existentially wondering what it feels like to complete a to-do list. After a few pints in Whitechapel, my +1 and I hop on the Overground and join the back of a queue outside Dalston Boys Club. The offbeat venue is playing host to the latest event from the label and organisers, Boys Boys Boys.
Their name being a playful nod at the inequality that the music industry continues to be plagued by, Boys Boys Boys is an imprint of Universal Music, formed in September 2024, that, at the time of initial writing, boasts two acts on their roster. Wonderland faves and feminist hitmakers, Girl Group, and self-defined sprunge (sparkly grunge if you’re wondering) singer-songwriter, Déyyess. BBB have been building a rep as daring disruptors in the label world, and are also picking up substantial hype for throwing some of the best community-focused, fun-frenzied nights in London.
Tonight, they celebrate their first birthday with a typically buzzy affair. A week later, they’ll be hosting Olivia Dean’s BRIT Awards afterparty. Dean, now the darling of British pop with a tetrad of triumphs at the UK’s biggest music ceremony, has been a regular fixture at the BBB parties.
The time is around 8:45pm as we step into the hallowed portal of Dalston Boys Club. Doors opened fifteen minutes prior and will slam shut within the hour. If you’re late, too fuckin’ bad. No one is too cool to be punctual here. Once those doors are closed, I’ve been warned to strap in. It is about to get kooky.
It’s cash only, a physical novelty used only as you enter the establishment to buy drinks tokens from a funnily dressed but oddly endearing man. It’s meant to instantly disarm you, I’m told later. It does the trick for me; by the time, an hour or so, that the host, Pint Sized Barbie (the alter-ego of indie musician Slow Cooked), makes a rousing and ridiculous speech atop a balcony that looks like it could crumble at any moment (the mild danger of death is intoxicating), I’m fully invested. My +1 is more confused. He has come in with less context. There’s fear in his eyes. He wonders if it’s a cult. I assure him it’s not. I don’t think so, at least.
There’s one large room with a bar, a small upstairs area to smoke and chat, and a downstairs basement where silliness ensues later on. We get socialising. Everyone is incredibly friendly. Most people seem to know each other – or at least know someone who knows someone that they know.
Community is a word that is thrown around a lot in music and culture, but in this case, it really befits the experience. This is as inclusive and inviting as I’ve felt in a party setting in London. There’s no pretending, no standing in the corner because you’re too aloof to talk to anyone. Groups merge, friendships begin, lips lock. There’s so much love and enjoyment in the building. It’s hard not to be swept up by its tidal wave of exuberance. Even my +1 is hooked by the time we wander into the basement, and things descend down a few pegs in debauchery.
From there, it gets a little blurry. I think I leave sometime around 2am, but it’s hard to say. I know I slept well. And contently. No next morning scaries. Just an eye opened to what is possible.
A month or so later. The sun has remembered to shine as I perch on a bench outside a pub at the back of Coal Drops Yard in King’s Cross. I squint as the paramount trio of Boys Boys Boys – Lizzy, Will and Lily – walk towards me. It’s late-afternoon, mid-week, Guinness all round. The gang have given up some time in their invariably hectic day jobs within the Universal assembly line to chat about their passionate side endeavour.
It’s a familiar but no less enthusing origin story. Disillusioned by the tos and fros of major label rigamarole, Lizzy – the bubbly ringleader, Polydor A&R by day – lit a spark that would ignite the BBB fire. “I’d been frustrated for a long time about the difficulties of signing artists really early on,” she says. “I really don’t subscribe to that – I think if you can work with a brilliant artist from the start of their careers, then you should do that. So I was frustrated, and my boss was honestly just like, ‘What are you going to do about it? Stop moaning and do something about it.’ And I was like, ‘Well… we have this idea.’ He was like, ‘Okay, cool, an imprint, what are you going to call it?’ ‘Erm, Boys Boys Boys?’ ‘Great, love it, go and do it then.’”
It’s refreshing, surprising even, that such freedom to exercise an idea is given to someone ingrained in a global corporation’s system. And now she had an in, Lizzy used the opportunity to begin carving out her vision for a new model of a label, of what an imprint should really be. The perks of a major – budget, backing, security – amalgamated with the freedom of an indie – a distinct autonomy, an untouchable spirit.
Before long, Will, whose background is in streaming, caught the bug and joined Lizzy’s crusade. And then Lily, an ex-Chess Club Records employee, joined Universal’s Polydor on a six-week internship, “serendipitously” found herself in the room for BBB’s first signing, and hasn’t looked back since. Between the three of them, the foundations began building. Soon, friends in and out of the Universal building jumped on the bandwagon, desiring to be involved in something fresh and unique, offering their support in whatever way their distinct skill set allowed – from PR to graphic design, event organising to DJing. “We’ve got an amazing group of people around us who are as equally in love with BBB as we are,” Will says. “So they’ll bring in ideas with how we’re going to grow, about how we are going to stay creative.”
So now we know the background. But what makes BBB special? Let’s first talk about the label. It’s only fitting that the first signing to the imprint be feminist five-piece Girl Group. Four from Norway, one from East Yorkshire, all based in Liverpool, where they met at university. Tired of constantly being sidelined by their male counterparts on their course, the five friends found solace in each other and started making music together. From which spawned the poptastic, societally articulate quintet who are quickly becoming industry favourites and status quo iconoclasts.
“Girl Group joining helped the identity,” Will offers. It’s a creative merger of mutual beneficence. They stand for the same morals, fill the same ideological spaces. New kids on the block who could be fostered and supported in the right label structure, sharpened in sound and aesthetic. BBB offered the perfect hub for that. “You can’t define a label until you’ve got an artist signed to it,” adds Lizzy, “because I always believe that the artist that you sign to a label creates the culture. And so [BBB] will always change depending on who we sign.”
Next up came singer-songwriter Déyyess. As with Girl Group, it was an effortless and sensible marriage, one born out of Lizzy’s day job scouting the next best talent. “I don’t really think about Polydor and BBB separately when I’m scouting,” she says. “I wouldn’t sign something to BBB that I wouldn’t sign to Polydor as well. I met Hannah a few times. Hannah’s girlfriend Meg was helping MD Girl Group at the time. It was about to be the first birthday party, and Hannah was coming along, and she asked what [BBB] was and why it hadn’t been brought into the conversations we were having [for Polydor].”
Déyyess has gone on to release a deluxe EP, “Would You Go Down On A Girl”, in February, and a scintillating new single, “Crush”, via BBB. Meanwhile, Girl Group have shared two EPs, “Think They’re Looking, Let’s Perform” and “Little Sticky Pictures”, in less than twelve months. The band also just took the roof off Revenge at this year’s The Great Escape in Brighton. And both acts are just beginning their journeys with the label.
There’s seamless synergy between label and artists – no pretence, no fear, no animosity or ill-will. They’ve struck the balance between unity and professionalism, between friendship and success. “Ultimately, there’s a line, and we aren’t here to be their friends,” Lizzy begins, before thinking and continuing, “But I don’t know if I subscribe to that. 100%, sometimes you can’t be their friend and you have to have hard conversations because that’s your job. It’s not going to be easy all the time. But if the conversation comes from a place of friendship, there’s trust there already.”
Too often, we hear horror stories about artists being enticed into the label system, then chewed up and spat out. But Girl Group and Déyyess have avoided the rat race and can say with verity that they admire and respect the people they work with. “Our artists, I think, are really proud of BBB,” Will says. “It’s a proper family, and they know that we’re here to look after them. So the community that we’re building with BBB, it’s absolutely theirs as well. It all works in tandem, and everything we do is with them in mind.”
As for the parties. Well, they’re simply infectious. Most people who attend once soon become regulars – there’s around “70% reattendance” according to RA stats, Lizzy discloses. The hype is built mainly on word of mouth, a group of music professionals and their wider circles who are fed up with what being in the ‘industry’ means. They just want to have fun, let loose, make friends. Maybe fall in love. “It’s very bring back kissing,” Lily grins. “In the age of Hinge and nightlife dying out, it’s about trying to find space for what everyone wants to do, which is have mates and have a dance and wake up tired.”
“I think what makes the nights so special is the people there,” Lizzy continues. “They are always quite eccentric – not even intentionally, we just throw a load of stuff at the wall. The thing as well is that the three of us came together, and now all of our really good friends have merged into a big group, and it’s just become friends of friends. And that makes them feel different to a random night that you just show up at. Everyone in those rooms, you could probably find a link with.”
To me, it is clear that the main challenge BBB faces is in keeping the effervescence and intimacy of the parties as they expand in popularity and scale. It’s hard to bottle up that feeling of communal vitality and unadulterated jollification when the capacity rises beyond a couple of hundred. One or two posers are bound to sneak in. But the trio feel well prepared. They’ve got shows locked and loaded.
Even since our rendezvous, the gang have announced perhaps their most consequential event to date, a Boys Boys Boys Summer Party in The Garden at Colour Factory in Hackney Wick on Saturday 13th June. The all-dayer will see all of the artists on the label performing, as well as Pint-Sized Barbie and the BBQ Boyz, and Sunni-D. Come fab, flirty, fun and early, the flyer suggests. You’d be a fool to miss this one (tickets here).
So with the hottest parties in town and among the most unique and exciting growing label rosters, Lizzy, Will and Lily are balancing major label jobs with the bohemian buzz of Boys Boys Boys. Next up? More parties, in and out of London (they’ve got budding communities in Liverpool and Manchester, for instance), and more artists. They’ve just announced the signing of a third act, a new duo called The 802. “Finally some boys,” they jest on Instagram.
Oh, and, of course, the all-new Substack. “The boyboyboyfriends Substack is a place for people who are in any way involved in BBB – whether that’s our artists, our team, our friends, people who come to the events, anyone – to write about things that inspire them,” Lizzy says. “We want to keep it as fluid as possible – people can make a playlist, submit images, anything! A bit of a window into the BBB-verse.”
“We’re excited to be able to look back at a paper trail,” Lily adds. “When I think back to the last year, there’s probably loads of stuff – conversations and thoughts and processes. I love the thought that in a year we’ll have loads.”
We polish off our Guinness and prepare to part ways. But not without one final inquiry. What makes a good party? It seems only right to ask those in the know.
“The people,” Will exclaims immediately.
“I think there are many ingredients to a good party,” Lily jumps in rationally. “The people, the place, the tunes…”
Lizzy concludes: “You have to disarm people from the get-go. The poster has to be incredible. Straight away – 8:30 doors, 9 you’re in. If you aren’t, don’t even bother. Then the lineup and the vibe are different. We do the party mix and then usually a speech of some sort. That immediately dusts people off and be like, well, I’m not going to be as strange as that, so I’m okay. Also, I just want really fun music. Play the music for the girlies, please.”
They flip the question on me. I muse for a moment before answering. I think it’s the ability to be able to walk up to anyone and have a conversation. It’s hard being from outside London in London in an industry that can be lonely and isolating. But BBB puts meaning in the madness and places inclusivity at the crux of all that it does. It’s a support hub of like-minded people, and everyone is welcome. As far as the party itself goes, it’s almost impossible not to be entertained.
So if you see me at a Boys Boys Boys event this summer, come say hello. We probably know someone in common.
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The imprint of Universal and renowned party starters are making a habit of signing the most exciting new artists, and putting on the kookiest shindigs in East London. Ben Tibbits attends one of their famed nights and meets the team behind Boys Boys Boys.
I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sick of clubbing. Sure, when I was a foolish young buck with Bieber-esque hair and crippling ego, the sticky floors and indie sing-alongs of Birmingham’s tackiest paradise, Snobs, carried an allure of lost romanticism and formative hedonism. But since I’ve moved South, gotten older, more cynical and generally harder to please, it has become increasingly difficult to stomach a night out on the town.
I’m tired of some random geezer with a swinging jaw jumping in front of me in the bathroom queue. I’m done with awkwardly swaying from side-to-side to music that I have to pretend to enjoy because I shelled out £20 for a ticket. I’m over taking out a small mortgage to order a Negroni. I’m fed up with developing emphysema the next day because I’ve spent two-thirds of the night before outside smoking to avoid the aforementioned cumbersome dancing. My back hurts just thinking about it.
So am I just getting boring, or is there something deeper here? Is nightlife in need of a serious shake-up? The club culture that those of a certain age who grew up in the UK once knew and worshipped is heading for a slow WKD-fuelled demise. For the sake of the event industry, and those filling – or not filling – up its dancefloors, we need a reframing, a renaissance, a revolution.
But there’s life in the old dog yet. Boys Boys Boys showed me that.
Let’s wind back a few months. It’s still big coat weather, a chilly Friday evening after a long week of drinking too much coffee and existentially wondering what it feels like to complete a to-do list. After a few pints in Whitechapel, my +1 and I hop on the Overground and join the back of a queue outside Dalston Boys Club. The offbeat venue is playing host to the latest event from the label and organisers, Boys Boys Boys.
Their name being a playful nod at the inequality that the music industry continues to be plagued by, Boys Boys Boys is an imprint of Universal Music, formed in September 2024, that, at the time of initial writing, boasts two acts on their roster. Wonderland faves and feminist hitmakers, Girl Group, and self-defined sprunge (sparkly grunge if you’re wondering) singer-songwriter, Déyyess. BBB have been building a rep as daring disruptors in the label world, and are also picking up substantial hype for throwing some of the best community-focused, fun-frenzied nights in London.
Tonight, they celebrate their first birthday with a typically buzzy affair. A week later, they’ll be hosting Olivia Dean’s BRIT Awards afterparty. Dean, now the darling of British pop with a tetrad of triumphs at the UK’s biggest music ceremony, has been a regular fixture at the BBB parties.
The time is around 8:45pm as we step into the hallowed portal of Dalston Boys Club. Doors opened fifteen minutes prior and will slam shut within the hour. If you’re late, too fuckin’ bad. No one is too cool to be punctual here. Once those doors are closed, I’ve been warned to strap in. It is about to get kooky.
It’s cash only, a physical novelty used only as you enter the establishment to buy drinks tokens from a funnily dressed but oddly endearing man. It’s meant to instantly disarm you, I’m told later. It does the trick for me; by the time, an hour or so, that the host, Pint Sized Barbie (the alter-ego of indie musician Slow Cooked), makes a rousing and ridiculous speech atop a balcony that looks like it could crumble at any moment (the mild danger of death is intoxicating), I’m fully invested. My +1 is more confused. He has come in with less context. There’s fear in his eyes. He wonders if it’s a cult. I assure him it’s not. I don’t think so, at least.
There’s one large room with a bar, a small upstairs area to smoke and chat, and a downstairs basement where silliness ensues later on. We get socialising. Everyone is incredibly friendly. Most people seem to know each other – or at least know someone who knows someone that they know.
Community is a word that is thrown around a lot in music and culture, but in this case, it really befits the experience. This is as inclusive and inviting as I’ve felt in a party setting in London. There’s no pretending, no standing in the corner because you’re too aloof to talk to anyone. Groups merge, friendships begin, lips lock. There’s so much love and enjoyment in the building. It’s hard not to be swept up by its tidal wave of exuberance. Even my +1 is hooked by the time we wander into the basement, and things descend down a few pegs in debauchery.
From there, it gets a little blurry. I think I leave sometime around 2am, but it’s hard to say. I know I slept well. And contently. No next morning scaries. Just an eye opened to what is possible.
A month or so later. The sun has remembered to shine as I perch on a bench outside a pub at the back of Coal Drops Yard in King’s Cross. I squint as the paramount trio of Boys Boys Boys – Lizzy, Will and Lily – walk towards me. It’s late-afternoon, mid-week, Guinness all round. The gang have given up some time in their invariably hectic day jobs within the Universal assembly line to chat about their passionate side endeavour.
It’s a familiar but no less enthusing origin story. Disillusioned by the tos and fros of major label rigamarole, Lizzy – the bubbly ringleader, Polydor A&R by day – lit a spark that would ignite the BBB fire. “I’d been frustrated for a long time about the difficulties of signing artists really early on,” she says. “I really don’t subscribe to that – I think if you can work with a brilliant artist from the start of their careers, then you should do that. So I was frustrated, and my boss was honestly just like, ‘What are you going to do about it? Stop moaning and do something about it.’ And I was like, ‘Well… we have this idea.’ He was like, ‘Okay, cool, an imprint, what are you going to call it?’ ‘Erm, Boys Boys Boys?’ ‘Great, love it, go and do it then.’”
It’s refreshing, surprising even, that such freedom to exercise an idea is given to someone ingrained in a global corporation’s system. And now she had an in, Lizzy used the opportunity to begin carving out her vision for a new model of a label, of what an imprint should really be. The perks of a major – budget, backing, security – amalgamated with the freedom of an indie – a distinct autonomy, an untouchable spirit.
Before long, Will, whose background is in streaming, caught the bug and joined Lizzy’s crusade. And then Lily, an ex-Chess Club Records employee, joined Universal’s Polydor on a six-week internship, “serendipitously” found herself in the room for BBB’s first signing, and hasn’t looked back since. Between the three of them, the foundations began building. Soon, friends in and out of the Universal building jumped on the bandwagon, desiring to be involved in something fresh and unique, offering their support in whatever way their distinct skill set allowed – from PR to graphic design, event organising to DJing. “We’ve got an amazing group of people around us who are as equally in love with BBB as we are,” Will says. “So they’ll bring in ideas with how we’re going to grow, about how we are going to stay creative.”
So now we know the background. But what makes BBB special? Let’s first talk about the label. It’s only fitting that the first signing to the imprint be feminist five-piece Girl Group. Four from Norway, one from East Yorkshire, all based in Liverpool, where they met at university. Tired of constantly being sidelined by their male counterparts on their course, the five friends found solace in each other and started making music together. From which spawned the poptastic, societally articulate quintet who are quickly becoming industry favourites and status quo iconoclasts.
“Girl Group joining helped the identity,” Will offers. It’s a creative merger of mutual beneficence. They stand for the same morals, fill the same ideological spaces. New kids on the block who could be fostered and supported in the right label structure, sharpened in sound and aesthetic. BBB offered the perfect hub for that. “You can’t define a label until you’ve got an artist signed to it,” adds Lizzy, “because I always believe that the artist that you sign to a label creates the culture. And so [BBB] will always change depending on who we sign.”
Next up came singer-songwriter Déyyess. As with Girl Group, it was an effortless and sensible marriage, one born out of Lizzy’s day job scouting the next best talent. “I don’t really think about Polydor and BBB separately when I’m scouting,” she says. “I wouldn’t sign something to BBB that I wouldn’t sign to Polydor as well. I met Hannah a few times. Hannah’s girlfriend Meg was helping MD Girl Group at the time. It was about to be the first birthday party, and Hannah was coming along, and she asked what [BBB] was and why it hadn’t been brought into the conversations we were having [for Polydor].”
Déyyess has gone on to release a deluxe EP, “Would You Go Down On A Girl”, in February, and a scintillating new single, “Crush”, via BBB. Meanwhile, Girl Group have shared two EPs, “Think They’re Looking, Let’s Perform” and “Little Sticky Pictures”, in less than twelve months. The band also just took the roof off Revenge at this year’s The Great Escape in Brighton. And both acts are just beginning their journeys with the label.
There’s seamless synergy between label and artists – no pretence, no fear, no animosity or ill-will. They’ve struck the balance between unity and professionalism, between friendship and success. “Ultimately, there’s a line, and we aren’t here to be their friends,” Lizzy begins, before thinking and continuing, “But I don’t know if I subscribe to that. 100%, sometimes you can’t be their friend and you have to have hard conversations because that’s your job. It’s not going to be easy all the time. But if the conversation comes from a place of friendship, there’s trust there already.”
Too often, we hear horror stories about artists being enticed into the label system, then chewed up and spat out. But Girl Group and Déyyess have avoided the rat race and can say with verity that they admire and respect the people they work with. “Our artists, I think, are really proud of BBB,” Will says. “It’s a proper family, and they know that we’re here to look after them. So the community that we’re building with BBB, it’s absolutely theirs as well. It all works in tandem, and everything we do is with them in mind.”
As for the parties. Well, they’re simply infectious. Most people who attend once soon become regulars – there’s around “70% reattendance” according to RA stats, Lizzy discloses. The hype is built mainly on word of mouth, a group of music professionals and their wider circles who are fed up with what being in the ‘industry’ means. They just want to have fun, let loose, make friends. Maybe fall in love. “It’s very bring back kissing,” Lily grins. “In the age of Hinge and nightlife dying out, it’s about trying to find space for what everyone wants to do, which is have mates and have a dance and wake up tired.”
“I think what makes the nights so special is the people there,” Lizzy continues. “They are always quite eccentric – not even intentionally, we just throw a load of stuff at the wall. The thing as well is that the three of us came together, and now all of our really good friends have merged into a big group, and it’s just become friends of friends. And that makes them feel different to a random night that you just show up at. Everyone in those rooms, you could probably find a link with.”
To me, it is clear that the main challenge BBB faces is in keeping the effervescence and intimacy of the parties as they expand in popularity and scale. It’s hard to bottle up that feeling of communal vitality and unadulterated jollification when the capacity rises beyond a couple of hundred. One or two posers are bound to sneak in. But the trio feel well prepared. They’ve got shows locked and loaded.
Even since our rendezvous, the gang have announced perhaps their most consequential event to date, a Boys Boys Boys Summer Party in The Garden at Colour Factory in Hackney Wick on Saturday 13th June. The all-dayer will see all of the artists on the label performing, as well as Pint-Sized Barbie and the BBQ Boyz, and Sunni-D. Come fab, flirty, fun and early, the flyer suggests. You’d be a fool to miss this one (tickets here).
So with the hottest parties in town and among the most unique and exciting growing label rosters, Lizzy, Will and Lily are balancing major label jobs with the bohemian buzz of Boys Boys Boys. Next up? More parties, in and out of London (they’ve got budding communities in Liverpool and Manchester, for instance), and more artists. They’ve just announced the signing of a third act, a new duo called The 802. “Finally some boys,” they jest on Instagram.
Oh, and, of course, the all-new Substack. “The boyboyboyfriends Substack is a place for people who are in any way involved in BBB – whether that’s our artists, our team, our friends, people who come to the events, anyone – to write about things that inspire them,” Lizzy says. “We want to keep it as fluid as possible – people can make a playlist, submit images, anything! A bit of a window into the BBB-verse.”
“We’re excited to be able to look back at a paper trail,” Lily adds. “When I think back to the last year, there’s probably loads of stuff – conversations and thoughts and processes. I love the thought that in a year we’ll have loads.”
We polish off our Guinness and prepare to part ways. But not without one final inquiry. What makes a good party? It seems only right to ask those in the know.
“The people,” Will exclaims immediately.
“I think there are many ingredients to a good party,” Lily jumps in rationally. “The people, the place, the tunes…”
Lizzy concludes: “You have to disarm people from the get-go. The poster has to be incredible. Straight away – 8:30 doors, 9 you’re in. If you aren’t, don’t even bother. Then the lineup and the vibe are different. We do the party mix and then usually a speech of some sort. That immediately dusts people off and be like, well, I’m not going to be as strange as that, so I’m okay. Also, I just want really fun music. Play the music for the girlies, please.”
They flip the question on me. I muse for a moment before answering. I think it’s the ability to be able to walk up to anyone and have a conversation. It’s hard being from outside London in London in an industry that can be lonely and isolating. But BBB puts meaning in the madness and places inclusivity at the crux of all that it does. It’s a support hub of like-minded people, and everyone is welcome. As far as the party itself goes, it’s almost impossible not to be entertained.
So if you see me at a Boys Boys Boys event this summer, come say hello. We probably know someone in common.
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