Vote now: What’s the worst thing about Trent?

When you tell your mates that you go to Trent,  I’m sure you’re greeted with the same reaction as most. Longing looks of adoration at our huge, messy Wednesdays and beaut city campus. But you’re here, you know it’s not all rosy. We’ve complied the definitive list of everything shit about going to Trent, pick your favourite and the winner will be presented with their very own certificate.

NTSU website crashing 

So what should be a simple ticket booking process becomes as stressful as booking 1D tickets with multiple laptops and your mum on the go just to get entry to an Ocean Wednesday. It crashes as regularly as the cash point in The Level. Refreshing the page and clicking to ‘log in as a student’ whilst you stare at the N number on your student card until it all blends into one and you question your sanity. It’s all so unnecessary. Let’s just all go to Coco Tang?

It never works

Spinny doors

If you study on city campus you already know the score. Trying not to get squashed in the 9am rush at Newton when the doors are travelling at approximately 100mph, or watching hungover students trying to push the automatic doors in Chaucer. Haunted by nightmares of  the time you trapped a boy in Newton spinny doors in first year and seeing him everywhere you go, riddled with guilt. The struggles are endless.

Ink 

The perfect re-incarnation of what was formerly known as Gatecrasher, we have INK, the grimey, loud and potentially dangerous venue that has been desperately reaching out to students like an abusive father wanting to see his children again. The only club in Nottingham completely capable of appearing as a guest on the Jeremy Kyle Show. It’s barrage of rooms making you feel like you’ve just entered the Crystal Maze and it’s incredibly steep steps leaving you thinking you’ve just climbed Mt.Everest. The tiny dance floor doesn’t help it’s already faulted reputation, full of gropey men and ratchet girls jostling to mate with each other right there… in the middle of the club… on the dance floor. Please keep your hands and your bodily fluids to yourself please!  

Tesco Express 

You’d think that with close to 90,000 students living in Nottingham local supermarkets (looking at you, Tesco Express on Shakespeare street) would have clocked on to Trent’s essentials for an Ocean Wednesday.

On Wednesdays, we want Vodka. Not just any but your cheapest, grossest and most regrettable kind. The brand that says “value” on it and costs £10 and not a penny more. For all the doritos, Warburtons and Red Bull we buy from you on a daily basis, surely the least you could do is make sure you don’t run out  by 2 PM every single week?! Yours truly, the Ocean Devotioners.

Rugby boys

The poster boys of Trent’s bad reputation – Nottingham Trent’s Rugby Union team in their tiny speedo’s, and shit haircuts. We get it, you’ve got chiseled abs and arms for days, but you don’t need to flaunt it in everyone’s face when we’re all taking a dip in the Ocean. Also what’s up with rubbing deep heat on your balls at welcome drinks and all the fake tan? Just to clarify, there’s nothing cool about pissing on each other and licking each other’s gooches…

Club Promoters 

Avoiding eye contact, keeping your hands in your pockets and even taking an extensive detour across the road still won’t stop them from shoving several flyers in your face and shouting about how great their “£1  Jägers all night” deal is in your general direction. It doesn’t stop there either- they invade your homes too, sending constant Facebook invites and posting about how much of a “mad one” their event is going to be, ruining your once de cluttered and fuck boy free news feed. No one knows or cares about your shitty new event.

The Locals

You thought Oceana was shit on a Tuesday night? Well try it out on saturday when the locals are out in full force, 40 year old single women on their best mates hen do flood the main dance floor screaming “ey up me duck”. Going out at the weekends will be avoided at all costs but then again partying on the weekdays could lead to an ASBO, as your neighbour logs dozens of noise complaints to the police. We hate the locals, the locals hate us.

Clifton Bus Queue 

Not only have you been at uni since nine, it’s now five o’clock, it’s getting dark, your nipples have frozen over and you’ve been waiting in a queue longer than Oceans all to get the No. 4 bus home from Clifton. There’s been no movement for ages, you look to the front of the queue to see the bus driver standing outside sparking up a fag and chatting away about Forests shit start to the season. When you finally get on the bus you’re squashed next to random people on your course and have to make conversation while you wait in the A453 traffic. Sort it out NCT.