Bingo, but nothing like your nan’s. Ninety numbers, a host with a microphone and no filter, and a room that goes from politely dabbing cards to standing on chairs within about twenty minutes.
Every full house triggers a dance break. The prizes range from genuinely brilliant to gloriously stupid, and half the fun is watching someone’s uncle win an inflatable flamingo and take a victory lap. Big singalong tracks between rounds, guests heckling the caller, and everybody in the room playing the same game regardless of age.
It’s the format that gets a corporate table and a hen party equally hysterical, which almost nothing else manages. Structured enough to run to time, chaotic enough that nobody sees it coming.