Oh no! It’s the Christmas conga….

Office party, balloons, poppers, paper hats at jaunty angles, too much Asti Spumante and the store cupboard with Chloe from accounts. Home at 3am. No phone. One shoe. Pretending the following morning that you can’t remember a thing. And it all starts with this record. So go on, join the drunken conga. It’s what the Baby Jesus would have wanted.