Thriller hen party dance class Derby the shapes everybody half knows
Everyone thinks they know this one. Almost nobody can do more than eight seconds of it, which is precisely why a roomful of people learning it properly is such a good afternoon. The teacher assembles the routine on the day from the shapes the group can handle. Ninety minutes costs £176, one payment for the whole room, and the hired room's venue cost is listed in the same written quote; sixty minutes costs £151 plus venue.
Thirteen people, one clean claw
The moment a group stops laughing at itself and starts caring whether the arms are level. It usually arrives about halfway through.
Book the room before the dark nights are spoken for
A rough date and a rough number gets you a call back with availability at both rooms and one written figure covering class and venue together. Autumn dates go first, so early messages are rewarded.
Theme not settled? It rarely is. A hen do dance class can change subject late, and a dance hen party can switch from monsters to musicals without touching the date. This is a hen party dance class needing no dance experience whatsoever, which is why it outlasts most hen party activities on a shortlist — and why it is the one hen party idea a whole party can still describe, move by move, a year later.
Eight famous seconds, extended into a real routine
"Everybody arrives with the same eight seconds. The ninety minutes are about what happens either side of them." Overheard in a Derby room
The teacher starts with the shapes the group already half owns, cleans them up until a line of thirteen people is actually together, and then builds outward — approach, formation, the slow section, the freeze. Nothing is prepared beforehand: the routine is composed on the day, because a party of nine and a party of eighteen cannot use a room the same way.
Ninety minutes brings in the group formations, the section where half the room rises behind the other half, and a finish rehearsed specifically so that the person filming knows where to stand, which matters more than people expect. Sixty is enough to walk out with a proper chunk of it, learned rather than approximated. We film nothing; the footage is yours to ration.
Zombie shapes are slow and low, which is kinder on the lungs than the thighs. Choosing ninety lets the teacher break the slow section into short goes with rests between them, so knees are spared, the rise behind the front half lands in unison, and those famous eight seconds finally get company on both sides.
If someone in the party has a dodgy knee or a bad back, say so in the form and the routine is shaped around it from the start.
Five moves that might make the final cut
The riseSlow, heavy and entirely about timing. A whole room can nail this in minutes.
always in playThe shoulder rollDeceptively simple, ruthlessly obvious when one person is behind.
teaches the countThe clawThe photograph. Hands up, heads tilted, thirteen faces committing far too hard.
camera pickThe hip swing and leanWhere the routine stops being a joke and starts being dancing.
if timeThe turn to cameraThe closer. Everyone lands facing the same way, more or less, eventually.
the finishSaid outright: those are candidates for the session, not a sequence we commit to. The teacher decides what the room can carry once they have seen it, and nothing is fixed in advance.
Somebody in the party can already do it?Mention them on the form — the teacher will use them.
Send the date ↑
Where the graveyard shift sits in a Derby day
Afternoon bookings work best, partly for energy levels and partly because the walk afterwards is nicer in daylight. The Railway Terrace, Derby DE1 2RU room is minutes from the platforms for anyone travelling over from Burton upon Trent; the Chapel Street, Derby DE1 3GU room puts the party at the top of town, close to the Market Place and a short stroll from the Derwent if the group fancies twenty minutes of air before the evening.
Face paint, fake blood and anything ripped is the group's own department — we provide none of it, and never have. A teacher, a speaker and a hired room is the entire inventory. Parties who go all in get the better photographs; anyone who turns up in a hoodie gets precisely the same class and considerably less scrubbing afterwards.
Two letters from the undead
"Seventeen of us, ages nineteen to seventy-three, and by the end every single person was doing the same arms at the same time, which I would have bet money against at the start. The teacher never once made anyone feel slow."
"A small party, so I had expected to be charged as though we were twice the size. One flat figure, the venue written in beside it, and ninety minutes that seven people still talk about. No haggling, no surprises."
Want your own witness statement?One short form and the date is held the same day.
Hold a date ↑Six questions worth asking
Anything else, ring 07534 019087 and ask. The desk is not easily shocked.
What does a Thriller booking cost altogether? +
Seven people or twenty, it is £176 for ninety minutes, and the hired room's venue charge appears in the same written quote; the shorter hour is £151 plus that venue charge.
Are we learning the zombie choreography itself? +
You learn the famous shapes properly, inside a routine the teacher builds on the day around your numbers and the room.
Does this only work in late October? +
No. Autumn fills up first, but the class is identical in June and books just as happily.
Who sorts the face paint and the rags? +
The group does. None of it is supplied; anyone in ordinary clothes gets the same class and a far easier journey home.
Will the slow stuff wreck anyone’s knees? +
Less than expected. It is slow material, floor work is optional, and anything flagged on the form is worked around from the start.
Where does the graveyard shift take place? +
Indoors, warm and private to your group. It is the Railway Terrace room next to the platforms or the Chapel Street room in the upper town, stated in writing.