Last week, when my friends and I decided to brighten up a winter evening with a girls’ night out on the town, we knew exactly where to start. We headed for the bingo hall.

True, we may be some time away from sporting a blue rinse and our slippers in the street. But we knew that an hour or two of “eyes down” would be the perfect pre-club destination.

It’s not as strange as it sounds. According to celebrity magazines, a bingo card is now the hottest ticket in town. Denise Van Outen is a regular at a club in north London and Catherine Zeta-Jones throws private bingo parties with Michael Douglas at the family home. Apparently the Queen enjoys the odd game for an evening of good old-fashioned fun. Even a recent Robbie Williams video featured him enjoying a few lines of bingo with Daryl Hannah.

Dripping in High Street bling, we made our way to Edinburgh’s Meadowbank Gala Bingo. Granted, there are more glamorous settings than a car park flanked by KFC and Poundstretcher but, once inside, we ordered a few bottles of fizz and settled ourselves at a private VIP booth. Through the haze of a thousand cigarettes, I spied several all-girl groups of twentysomethings, scattered among the traditional OAP crowd. Taking the lead from the die-hard bingo biddies, we arranged our game cards neatly, poised for action.

All the bingo-prep I had studiously undertaken was a total waste of time. These days, bingo lingo is not required. It is no longer de rigueur to use phrases such as “two fat ladies”, “two little ducks” or “legs eleven” when calling the numbers. Instead the caller simply reads out the digits.

Likewise, the ping-pong balls have been replaced by a random number generator, which flashes numbers onto tiny screens attached to every table. So far, so high-tech.

The final shock was discovering that nobody really shouts “bingo” any more. It’s simply “not done”, in the words of an elderly lady queuing for a whisky and water at the bar. The real players go for “aye!” or “line!”, while others make things up, opting for random phrases such as “Scooby Doo!”.

A few games in — our brains slightly scrambled from the number hunting and frantic dabbing — we were beginning to feel the bite of the bingo bug. There’s something unmistakably thrilling about those magic words, “eyes down”. There is nothing like the sheer thrill of the gamble for an adrenaline rush. By the time the live National Bingo Game was announced — for which 500 bingo clubs across the UK link up to play for a £50,000 jackpot — we were practically quivering with anticipation.

Julie Forrester, a smartly dressed physiotherapist from Trinity, almost spilled her Bacardi and Coke in her rush back to the table when the National was announced. She was with three colleagues and her sister. “I first came here a few months back for a hen night and I love it,” she said. “It’s such a laugh. I get a real buzz!” Although nobody would deny the thrill of winning a few pounds, the appeal is not solely financial. It is the simplicity of the game and the energy of a fast-paced race to see who will hit a full house first.

It has even got its political admirers. Bill Clinton reportedly had to be dragged out of a Blackpool bingo hall by his minders while in town for the Labour party conference in 2002.

With so many A-list converts, it was only a matter of time before the game attracted the middle classes. Earlier this year Harvey Nichols, a reliable style barometer, held a Clickety Chicks charity bingo evening in its Edinburgh store. With an entrance fee of £55, the organisers were overwhelmed by the response from the rich and style-conscious, all anxious for their number to come up. The 2005 event is already being planned.

Scottish bingo clubs in general have reported a surge in memberships from 18- to 35-year-olds. Chris Barr, the operations director for Carlton Clubs, is overseeing the construction of a £5.5m 2,000-seat bingo hall at Fife Leisure Park.

Carlton Clubs have 75,000 members in Scotland alone, and figures show that about a quarter of these are under 35, a stark contrast to last decade’s figures where the vast majority of players were pensioners. Gala bingo, a competitor, has noted similar changes.

Mintel recently conducted a study on behalf of the British Bingo Association to find out why bingo fans are getting younger. They reported 40% of respondents under 35 said bingo was far more appealing than it used to be. In London, 9% of those surveyed said they preferred bingo to the health club or yoga. While this will be dubious news to the nation’s health watchers, bingo — apart from the cigarette machines and bar — does seem a relatively harmless fun night out. It ’s gambling-lite. Credit and Switch cards are barred.

Like other supposedly “low-brow” activities, such as greyhound racing, these things only really come into vogue as part of our fascination with all things retro. This was undeniably the attraction for me and, I suspect, most new recruits. While bingo’s fine for a couple of hours, our night ended a long way away from the flashing numbers and full houses. In a perennially trendy cocktail bar, of course.

Gala Bingo Club, Meadowbank, (0131 661 3339); Carlton Club Stirling 28 Allanpark, (01786 475242); Carlton Club Livingston, Almondvale Shopping Centre, Livingston, (01506 432658). Membership for bingo clubs must be obtained 24 hours in advance

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