Why this exists.

First thing to know: I love pizza. Properly. Wood-fired Napoletana, good dough, restraint with the toppings, charred just right. I'll drive an hour for a slice that's worth the trip and I've got opinions about cornicione you don't want to hear.

Second thing: a while back I realised I hadn't properly seen my mates in months. Not for any reason — just life. Work got busy, kids got busier, schedules drifted, and I lost the regular thing that used to glue us all together.

Group chats are not friendship. Liking each other's posts is not friendship. Saying “we should catch up” for the seventeenth time is not friendship. Friendship is showing up in the same room, regularly, no agenda.

So I built the simplest possible version of that, around the thing I already loved: a club for blokes that meets every fortnight at a local pizza joint. No agenda, no fees, no DMs, no follower counts. You rock up, you eat, you talk crap, you leave. That's the whole format.

Pizza is the Trojan horse. The thing we're actually doing is showing up for each other.