I missed this one on release—most likely because I was either working, studying, or actually out clubbing. Now back in circulation, it’s a cheerfully chaotic one-night-only caper from 1999, bottled at the tail end of the pre-millennium party era. John Simm leads the charge, with a fresh-faced Danny Dyer showing the swagger he’d later trade on. The plot is a blur of pubs, nightclubs, dodgy encounters, and a rotating cast of eccentrics, stitched together with a kind of affectionate silliness.
What makes it more than just a time capsule is the way it captures the optimism and absurdity of a night out when you’re young enough to think sunrise is a goal. Andrew Lincoln’s turn as a man wistfully recounting his glory days is a quiet highlight—funny, bittersweet, and just the right amount of self-aware. It’s scrappy, a little dated, but good company for anyone who remembers when the biggest problem on a night out was not having enough money left for the nightbus.