While the glittering, Bjork-laden ceremony for the 2026 BRIT Awards lit up Co-op Live, complete with pyrotechnics and Jeff Goldblum, the real flex happened off-stage. Not to mention extending into the small hours.
Warner Music and Hennessy decided that if the BRITs were heading north, they’d do it properly – starting not at a red carpet, but at Euston.
Around 200 guests boarded the British Pullman, a rolling Art Deco time capsule of chintz-ey armchairs, polished wood and white-gloved service. This wasn’t the 9.37 Avanti service calling at Watford and Rugby. This was silver cutlery, bone china and Hennessy Paradis poured into actual glassware, not plastic beakers.
Actors, DJs and industry names drifted between carriages named Gwen and Audrey, actor turned tarot reader Jaime Winstone offered playful predictions for the night ahead, and somewhere between asparagus starters and panna cotta, the mood shifted from polite industry catch-up to something looser. By the time the train rolled into Piccadilly, the weekend had already started.
The main event unfolded at The Cut & Craft, the former bank turned marble-clad steakhouse that Warner and Hennessy completely reimagined for the night. Outside: a five-metre-tall poodle installation. Inside: poodle-print carpets, oversized inflatables, laser lighting and a basement primed for hedonism.
The concept – ‘24 Hour Party Poodles’ – nodded to 24 Hour Party People and Manchester’s club-land mythology, blending British eccentricity with the city’s unquestionable acid house lineage. Think archival images of cultural icons and their dogs, reworked into something surreal, glossy and a wee bit unhinged.
On the decks: G2, Kim Turnbull and Gjin Lipa (yes, Dua’s brother) alongside Tommy Gold and Groove Armada. Downstairs, Manchester collective Suns of Acid – aka Jack and Arlo, aka offspring of Happy Mondays’ very own freaky dancer Bez — took charge of a basement that felt closer to 1990 than 2026.
As for the guestlist, it read like a cross-section of music, fashion and television: Dua Lipa celebrating late into the night, Rosé fresh from her win, presenter AJ Odudu, comedian Munya Chawawa, actor Harris Dickinson, and Gallagher scions Lennon and Gene.
Drinks were as theatrical as the décor. The Henny-Rita – a sharp, citrus-led twist on a margarita – did serious mileage, alongside Hennessy X.O espresso martinis and highballs. Caviar-topped cheese toasties, truffle mac bites and fishcakes moved steadily through the room.
What made the whole thing land wasn’t just the spectacle. It was the symbolism.
The BRITs leaving London for the first time since 1977 felt long overdue. Manchester has always been more than a regional outpost; it’s a cultural exporter. From the Hacienda to Madchester, from Oasis to warehouse raves, the blueprint was usually written here first.
Hennessy leaning into that – not with a polite drinks reception, but with a surreal, poodle-stuffed fever dream – showed an understanding that Manchester doesn’t do subtle.
The following morning, bleary-eyed guests re-boarded the British Pullman for a Sunday roast service back to London. Bloody Marys replaced espresso martinis. Yorkshire puddings replaced lasers. And somewhere around Stoke, the whole thing started to feel faintly unreal.
But that’s the thing about moments like this. They’re designed to feel slightly out of time – a bridge between eras. Old-world train travel. Acid house nostalgia. Gen-Z DJs.
For one weekend, Manchester wasn’t just hosting the industry. It was reminding it who it learned from.
Poodles and all.
