It’s at an English manor. Just past the picket fence, the topiary and the cast-iron horse head. Can’t miss it.
And nothing says unhinged-party like a topiary...
Get cockney for Hooray Henry’s, the English-accented new club from John Terzian and the rest of the Bootsy Bellows guys that’s like an across-the-pond house party gone gloriously off the rails, opening tomorrow.
So yeah. It’s nice in here. Tartan-plaid carpets. Old cycling trophies. Tiny dachshund figurines. Checkered floors. Huge pictures of models wearing nothing except the British flag. Oh, and a big 3D wall. Yup. English manor with a big 3D-graphic-wall thing. Classic.
Anyway, it... was nice in here. Before all the hooligans showed up and started downing all the beer.
And by “hooligans,” we mean agents.
And by “beer,” we mean East Ends—they’re tequila, lime, pineapple and habanero.
So needless to say, what you want to do is... invite everyone you know to this party immediately. Actresses, expats, assistants, random people on the street wearing cool leather jackets—all of ’em. Commandeer a navy-and-red booth in the back. Commence with some light booth-dancing. Segue to actual dancing. Wait to hear “London Calling.”
We can only assume it’s mandatory.