🎉 Disco Fever: The Primary School Edition

A chaotic love letter to glow sticks, Bob the Builder, and orange squash highs

There’s something magical — and mildly unhinged — about the primary school disco. The assembly hall transforms into a glittering, sticky-floored rave for under-12s. Your mum’s curled your hair with actual effort. You’re wearing your best sparkly top from Tammy Girl, and you’ve got approximately 75p in your Hello Kitty purse ready to make it rain at the tuck shop.

It was a rite of passage. A fever dream. A moment of pure 2000s childhood joy.

🎶 The Soundtrack to Chaos

Cha Cha Slide — compulsory.
Macarena — also compulsory.
Bob the Builder (Can We Fix It?) — YES. WE. COULD.
No seriously, this went OFF at my school. Like, full crowd participation. Air hammers. Thunderous chants. That was the vibe.

Daisy’s Corner:
“If you didn’t lose your voice to Bob the Builder in Year 5, you didn’t live. I would’ve requested Postman Pat (remix) just to keep the chaos rolling.”

💃 The Moves

Nobody taught us to dance. We absorbed it. One moment we were awkwardly shuffling, the next we were doing synchronised “YMCA” like we were born to perform. Add a few rogue cartwheels and a failed conga line and you’ve got a full-body workout.

🧃 The Tuck Shop Haul

You’d hand over coins like a high roller at a casino:

10p drumstick lollies
Rainbow drops
Fizzy cola bottles
One single packet of Space Raiders that would perfume your fingers for the next week

Daisy’s Corner:
“I tried to barter my little brother’s Pokémon card for a second bag of crisps. They said no. Capitalism is brutal.”

🫣 The Drama

Someone always cried. Someone always spilt squash. And someone always had to be dragged off the dancefloor when “Bleeding Love” came on because it was just too emotional.

😬 And Then Came the High School Discos…

Where primary school discos were a glitter-soaked fever dream, high school discos were… a different beast entirely.

The vibes? Immaculately awkward.
The lighting? Basically pitch black with a strobe.
The music? “Basshunter” at ear-splitting volume followed by “A Thousand Miles” with zero irony.
The atmosphere? Somewhere between a school trip and a hormonal panic attack.

Daisy’s Corner:
“Why did it smell like Lynx, broken dreams, and floor cleaner? Also, I’m pretty sure someone proposed during a slow dance to Hero by Enrique Iglesias.”

You’d either be clinging to your best mate in a corner or pretending to look chill while waiting for your song to come on — probably Rihanna, Usher, or Black Eyed Peas — just so you could scream the lyrics like it was therapy.

The slow dances were worse. People coupling up like it was a weird dating ritual while the rest of us tried to look busy by fiddling with our phone charms or sneaking to the loo for a breather.

🎓 Bonus Round: Prom? I Think Not.

Let’s just say I knew when to bow out gracefully. High school discos were already a struggle — why would I voluntarily sign up for the final boss level of social awkwardness?

I didn’t go to prom.
And honestly? Thank god. No regrets. No forced slow dances, no stressing about who I’d sit with, and definitely no spending £40 on a glittery clutch bag I’d never use again.

Daisy’s Corner:
“You missed nothing except lukewarm chicken goujons and someone crying in the toilet because their spray tan rubbed off on their dress. Iconic choice.”

💫 In Conclusion…

Primary school discos were chaotic magic. High school ones were a social experiment gone wrong. And skipping prom? That was my peak main character moment.

Would I go back and do it all again?
Only if Bob the Builder is on the playlist.

Daisy’s Corner:
“And only if I can DJ. First song? Crazy Frog. Let the trauma begin.”