The ‘White House’ throws the best parties in Bristol

If you’ve not heard of Beechwood House aka The White House (because the walls are white and so are the drugs), the only reason is you just aren’t cool enough.

For years, this house has hosted the best parties in Bristol and this year’s no exception. They have bouncers on the door, a full bar, proper DJ sets and nos literally on tap. They throw the kind of parties you see in American college films and they’re strictly invite only.

We were among the lucky few to get an invite to their party a few weeks ago, and can finally shine a light on what goes on behind those pure as snow walls.

We have arrived

As the friendly bouncer stamped my hand, I realised my life was finally complete.

Stepping through the door, you’re immediately hit by the smell of alcohol, sweat and the desperation of the night to come. Relishing the opportunity to have a nosy around before the party got too big, we set off to explore the house. Each room was filled with a new breed of drunk student, more loud and horny than the last. It was fucking brilliant.

Then it all took a dark turn.

Not gonna lie, the guy:girl ratio needed some work

Entering the kitchen, we encountered a particularly wavey set of party-goers, the kind that love to get monged and get it on. Realising we’d intruded into something a little too hardcore for three fairly sober girls to handle, we made for the door and tried to make a hasty retreat.

This is when one of the girls, looking more fucked than Lindsey Lohan’s life choices, grabbed my friend.

She whispered in her ear for a full five minutes then stalked away looking pleased with herself while my friend stood completely still looking absolutely horrified.

“She said I was too beautiful and that I should hurt myself or get myself into an accident…she needs to work on her flirting.”

Seriously. Fucked. Up.

We left the kitchen behind us, though not before looking back at what we’d escaped one last time. The whisperer was now sat up on the kitchen counter, violently engaged in what looked like trying to thrust herself through the skin of another human being.

Later on we found her sat on the sofas vomiting directly onto a pile of bags and coats without anyone batting an eyelid. This is what happens to people when they enter the White House.

These people will be forever changed

Parties like this are defined by the crazy shit you do that you wouldn’t get a chance to do anywhere else. Aside from a scary vomiting lesbian though, these sorts of antics seemed to be in short supply.

I rang round friends to find out what they’d got up to in the hope I’d find something, anything, to help justify the crazy reputation of Beechwood House. Something to make the night legendary rather than merely great.

The best I got? “The toilet was flooded, so I pissed outside instead. Don’t put that in the article though.”

Ah well, maybe next time.