The stereotypes of every club you’ll go to in Portsmouth

Tiger to Wiggles

With so many different nights out and venues Portsmouth is bound to attract an extensive range of people. From the sticky snakebite puddled floor of Popworld to the jaw gurning basement of Astoria, here are the types of people you’ll encounter.

Tiger Tiger 

You don’t go to Tiger unless its a student night on a Monday or a Thursday. You will end up paying £10 for a vodka coke on a Friday or a Saturday, leave it to the working adults who come to shop and stay at Gunwharf for the weekend. Tiger Tiger is the elite student night out. A change of scenery if you will, instead of throwing up outside Ken’s chicken shop, you will projectile vomit outside Michael Kors’ new Autumn/Winter display, classy.



Tiger Tiger is the only night where you will not need to ask your housemate “are you gonna wear heels?” You have to, otherwise you will not be allowed in or you will cringe all night at how under dressed you are. The Kanaloa (Hawaiian) room is where you will book a booth for your 21st and where coked-up reality TV stars will sit for two hours and pose with drunk students.



Girls will wear some form of body from Missguided or Topshop, teamed with Joni jeans or a midi skirt and strappy heels. The boys will usually sport some form of chelsea or desert boot and a shirt from Ralph Lauren or Allsaints.

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The Astoria 

Astoria is a club for literally everyone. The basement is home to boys who just love the brand Palace and Stussy a bit too much. Don’t you get hot in your tracksuit bottoms and your matching puffa jacket? I mean, your ankles aren’t even getting any air, your Nike socks come up to your knees. Girls will be equipped with snap backs and Adidas Stan Smiths, also accessorised with some form of checked flannel shirt tied around their waist. Are you 8? Did you get too warm playing knee slides at lunch time you’ve had to wrap your school jumper around your waist? It is a pointless extra piece of clothing, that I can only imagine adds to your already over exceeding body temperature.



The middle floor is a mix of just about everyone. Locals who usually come out in prom dresses and ten inch heels, greeted by the confused faces of students: “it’s only Astoria, why are you so dressed up?” Usually a group of lads on a strictly no girls allowed night out will congregate as close to the DJ booth as possible, causing everyone else to have to elbow their way through them and avoid certain death down the stairs. They absolutely love the smoke and fire that comes out the DJ booth. As the smoke eventually clears and you wonder how long it has been you’ve been temporarily blind for, you see one of the lads down his vodka red bull, pour the last droplets over his head and headbutt the glass onto the already sticky floor. It’s time to leave the dance floor.



The heated smoking terrace area is legit chirpse city. You will find couples everywhere, boys who have suggested “shall we go outside? I can’t hear you.” Lines such as “so what do you study?” “where do you live?” can be heard walking through the smoking area of Astoria to Lyberry, grafting at it’s finest.

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Is Popworld open any other nights apart from Wednesday? Does anybody know? Popworld is just full of students who are fully committed to the sesh, every single Wednesday without fail. You’ve got rugby lads who are just so weirdly keen to start a fight 24/7. Chill out, you got a bit of snakebite on your chinos you’re 6ft5 and 15 stone people are gonna trip over you. Boys on their white t-shirt social playing the alphabet game who are so unbelievably persistent on pulling, she’s not interested pal. Girls who sit and cry on the stairs in their neon tights and pink and black stripes socks or whatever shit theme their social has chosen. Seriously, get up, I’m convinced if you took a swab of those stairs it would show the plague still exists.



A drunken haze of F’s on people’s foreheads and dicks drawn on peoples white t-shirts and any bit of skin that is available is the general view from the balcony. Students carrying eggs or jugs of gravy or whatever weird idea their old boy/girl has thought would be hilarious. Forever avoiding being whipped in the eye by a sweaty Primark top whenever “I’ll be there” from Baywatch comes on, by a over enthusiastic student from swim keen to get his bod out.


Usually the end venue of a Carnage bar crawl or a Halloween block party, does anyone actually make it to Shitquid though? Students have never really return here after Freshers Week in first year. It’s borderline Commercial Road which is where no one wants to be late at night. Leave Liquid to the locals.



Do not go here.

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University of Portsmouth