Islanders Demand the Return of Secrets Parties & House Parties

JERSEY PROUDLY hosted numerous mini beach-drinking festivals and mental house parties between 2000-2010

2010 marked the untimely death of secrets parties, and no one has really mourned properly for them, until now.

The events used to see hundreds of teenagers flocking to the most barren part of the island in order to converse and consume several litres of alcohol, before passing out in a nearby field, or if you were romantic, the sand dunes.

Upon returning from Tenerife, islander Blake Dempsey recalls how nostalgia smashed him in the face as he flew over the sand dunes. He told us how much better it was in the past:

“Back then, we didn’t have iPhones, Facebook, or Instagram. We had MSN, No Fear jeans, Tech Decks and a Nokia, maybe a Samsung D500 if you were blessed. We were the ruthless lot, none of this ‘oh I might be a bit late hun, just ‘gotta Instagram this squad pic’ no, Sally, you turn up at 7pm with half a bottle of Co-op brand vodka and some Cherryade and you down that shit like it’s Ribena and then you go and tell Robbie from Year 9 that you love him.”

Dempsey claims that the secrets parties followed a similar fashion to house parties, though, were ultimately more popular because it was more acceptable to pass out on a beach as opposed to your friend’s parent’s bath.

“Secrets parties were usually organised on MSN. The ringleaders of the popular groups at school would set the time, and somehow, the inbetweeners of the school would catch scent of the plans, randomly turn up and just sort of stand there, almost waiting to be picked up, despite being dropped off minutes before. But, that was cool, because at the end of the day, we were all there to kiss people and maybe punch someone from Biology.”

Dempsey also claims that if a secrets party wasn’t happening, people offered up their houses, like glorious medieval vikings. Dempsey brands them ‘eternal heroes’ due to their balls of steel and homely generosity:

“It’s funny how we had balls of steel back when we were 16. I’d invite 70 people round for a house party and simply wouldn’t tell my parents. Fuck, I didn’t even know 70 people, I even invited that prick SmarterChild off MSN. Didn’t turn up though did he, the smug bastard.”

“I remember this one time where we raided some guy’s wine cupboard because we ran out of Strongbow (the real Strongbow, not that Dark Fruit Zac Efron Disney shit). I didn’t even like wine, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even know what a wine was, but it was there, and I needed it so I could kiss my girlfriend who I hadn’t spoken to yet because we fell in love on MSN.”

Unfortunately, times have changed, and Dempsey is now left reluctantly dragging himself into one of the three club options in Jersey in a desperate plea for acceptance and minor adulation:

“Now I just have to make do with clubbing. There’s no sand, no MSN, no Nokias, no bus tokens, no texts saying ‘mum, pls k help me am dyin in a field,’ there’s just no excitement.”

However, new developments have been made, and Dempsey seeks to host a secrets reunion party in the coming weeks. House parties are entirely unavailable due to the fact that no one is as brave as they were 10 years ago and the people that do now own a flat or house would rather buy their own beach than have more than 3 people round at a time.

After Dempsey’s nostalgia trip came to an end, and after he’d cried into a bottle of White Lightning on the steps of The Splash, we asked what his favourite memory was during these notorious times:

“Oh, I never attended any of these parties, not really anyway. I was too busy sweet-talking my real girlfriend back home.

In my room.

On my computer.

On Runescape.”

#99woodcutting

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