I’ll be honest about where I started. Dinner, a show and a disco, all rolled into one ticket? My inner cynic assumed at least one of those three would be the weak link, and probably the food. I’ve sat through enough themed nights that promised the earth and served a sad little tray of something beige. So when my sister begged me to book Mamma Mia! The Party for her birthday, I went in fully braced to be underwhelmed. Reader, I was not.
Here’s the thing nobody quite explains before you go. This is not a stage you watch from a seat with a warm gin. It’s a whole Greek island rebuilt inside The O2 in London, and you get to live in it for a night. You eat a proper four-course meal. A love story plays out around your actual table while you eat. Then the entire taverna tips over into an ABBA disco and everyone completely loses it. If you want to follow along, open the Mamma Mia! The Party booking page here and keep it beside you as you read.
The 30-second version
Come for a proper night out, not a polite dinner. The food is genuinely good, the cast pull you in, and the disco is the bit you’ll still be talking about on Monday.
Book a Friday or Saturday for maximum party, a weeknight if you want it a touch calmer. Groups adore it – hen dos, birthdays, big family celebrations. Just book early, because the good dates vanish.
So what actually is it?
Quick context, because the name undersells it. The whole evening takes place at The O2, on a full recreation of the Greek island of Skopelos – the one where the original film was shot. You’re seated inside Nikos’ taverna. A new story, written by Sandi Toksvig, unfolds around the room to a soundtrack of songs you already know every word to. You eat as it happens. And when the plates are cleared, the band cranks up and it becomes a full-blown disco.
That structure is the clever bit. Most nights out ask you to choose – a nice meal, or a show, or a dance. This refuses to pick. It hands you all three in one continuous evening, and somehow none of them feels like the poor relation. That was my first surprise, and it reset my expectations for everything that followed.
Nikos’ taverna: the set that genuinely fooled me
You walk in through a little Greek square, past a tourist office and a souvenir stand, and something in your shoulders drops. It sounds daft, but I stopped feeling like I was at The O2 within about ninety seconds. There are balconies dressed in ivy and red bougainvillea, a stone fountain in the middle, lanterns, and a painted sea that catches the light like it’s real. The scale of it is the thing photos don’t capture.
Here’s a small tip that made a difference for us. Ask about the balcony tables versus the floor tables when you book. The floor puts you right in the middle of the action, close enough to be part of it. The balcony gives you the sweeping postcard view of the whole room. Neither is wrong, but they’re different nights, so choose on purpose. You can compare what’s available on the official tables page here.
The food, course by course (yes, I checked)
This was the part I was ready to be sniffy about. I wasn’t. It’s a genuine four-course Greek menu, served family-style as sharing platters, and that single detail changes the mood at the table. You pass dishes around. You fight over the last piece of spanakopita. It’s a little bit chaotic, in the best possible way, and it does more for the atmosphere than any amount of scenery.
You start with a mezze spread – warm breads, dips, olives, that crisp spanakopita – alongside a proper Greek salad heavy with feta and heritage tomatoes. Then the mains land: braised lamb stifado and slow-cooked beef with garlic roasted baby potatoes and a vegetable briam, or a potato and aubergine moussaka if you’re going veggie. Dessert is a little trio of baklava, orange ravani cake and yoghurt with cherry. Swipe through what actually arrived at our table.
Swipe through the four courses →
Is it the finest Greek meal in London? No, and it isn’t trying to be. But it’s warm, generous and clearly cooked with care, and it holds its own next to everything else going on. One practical note worth flagging: the vegan and vegetarian versions are proper alternatives, not a sad afterthought, so tell them your needs when you book. Lock in your dietary choices on the booking page here so nothing gets lost.
The story sneaks up on you
I expected the plot to be background noise, a thin excuse to string the songs together. It’s better than that. There’s a genuine little romantic comedy running through the meal, funny and surprisingly sweet, and because it happens at your elbow rather than on a distant stage, you get pulled in without deciding to. By the second course I actually cared how it turned out. That is not something I say lightly about a dinner show.
You don’t watch this show. It happens around you, at your table, while you’re mid-mouthful – and that’s exactly why it works.
The live music, right at your table
Everything is sung live, and the band roams. A guitarist appears between the tables. A singer belts a number from the edge of the fountain, close enough that you can see they mean it. When you’ve only ever heard these songs through car speakers, hearing them performed a few feet away, live, does something to a room. The energy climbs and climbs, and you can feel the whole place leaning in.
By the time the meal winds down, the line between audience and cast has basically dissolved. That’s the design, and it’s the reason the next part lands so hard. If you’re the type who needs a minute to warm up, don’t worry – the room does the work for you. Grab your spot for a live-music night on the Mamma Mia! The Party site.
And then the whole place becomes a disco
This is the moment. The lights drop, a disco ball comes down, the cast reappear in the white ABBA costumes, and the taverna you’ve been eating in for two hours turns into a nightclub. Confetti everywhere. People on their feet, on the balconies, dancing on the little stone platforms. Strangers who were quietly eating a salad an hour ago are now arm in arm belting the chorus. It is joyful in a way that’s almost impossible to fake.
So who is it actually for?
Not everyone wants their dinner interrupted by a bass solo, and that’s fair. But if any of the below sounds like your kind of evening, you’ll have a brilliant time. Here’s my honest read on who it suits best.
| The occasion | Why it works |
|---|---|
| Hen dos & birthdays | Zero planning once it’s booked – dinner, entertainment and a dance are all sorted in one |
| Big family celebrations | Something for every age, and the sharing platters keep everyone talking |
| Date night with a twist | Far more memorable than another restaurant, with a built-in slow dance |
| ABBA superfans | Live, up close, sung with real heart – not a backing track in sight |
| First-timers to a London night out | Easy to get to, easy to love, and it does the ice-breaking for you |
A few honest booking tips
A handful of things I’d tell a friend. Book weekends early, because Fridays and Saturdays are the first to go and they carry the biggest party energy. Getting there is genuinely part of the fun – hop on the Uber Boat by Thames Clippers down the river to The O2 and arrive on a high. Dress up a little; you’ll want to in the photos. And flag any dietary needs at the point of booking rather than on the night. Sort all of that in one go on the booking page.
The honest verdict
What I loved
All three parts deliver – the set fools you, the food is generous, the story charms you and the disco is pure joy. It’s the rare night out where nobody in a mixed group is bored.
The one catch
It isn’t a cheap or a quiet evening. This is a loud, all-in party, so if you wanted a calm sit-down dinner, look elsewhere. Lean into the noise and you’ll love it.
So where did I land? I walked in braced for a cheesy tourist trap and walked out hoarse, glitter in my hair, already texting the group chat about going back. That’s the most honest review I can give. It’s not subtle and it’s not trying to be. It sets out to give you a huge, generous, ABBA-soaked night, and it absolutely delivers on the promise.
My advice? Don’t overthink it. Pick a date while your favourite night is still open, round up the people who’ll throw themselves into it, and go. The best weekends sell through fast, so the only real risk is leaving it too late. Start at the Mamma Mia! The Party booking page here and give yourselves a night you’ll actually remember.
