We’re just more fun than them: Belfast vs Cambridge

Let’s start with Cambridge shall we…

Cambridge

Kings? Queens? ahhh

The night started with the Corpus Virgin Smoker, which, like all things Cambridge, is named in Posh Code Language.

No virgins were set on fire, it was in fact a collection of stand-up and sketches with virgin/new performers, and was held in a room with a ‘notoriously weird shape’.

You know there’s not much going on when the shape of a room can be notorious, a wacky L shaped room no less. Mental.

The comedy itself was varied, some people awkwardly destroying their act, and some gathering only sympathy giggles.

L shaped? whoa I gotta see this!

Some of it was classically Cambridge, with a ‘Middle class rap’ about Waitrose and Have I Got News For You and a ‘Back Bench-er monologue’ in a hilariously Eton accent.

Despite a few moments of ‘it would be funny if it weren’t so true’ these acts were excellent, and the more ridiculously funny ‘Why Pandas Deserve to be Extinct’ received waves of belly laughs from both sides of the L.

All in all, it was good fun, but a little posh and awkward to be raved about (I think I see a trend forming).

The Cindy’s night at Ballare is the place to go apparently, mainly because of the very cheap alcohol as part of it’s charm.

The music is strictly cheesy pop, and only the parts of the song that everyone knows are played. This place is the physical representation of instant gratification.

A night out that aims to instantly satisfy the hardworking students of Cambridge and offers the tried and tested formula for a good night (alcohol + the parts of songs everyone can slur along to standing in a circle of friends).

I can’t say that Cindy’s is entirely dignified but as a night out goes, it is guaranteed that the music won’t be good, but you’ll know every song, it only costs a tenner to get completely wankered but the chunder will flow, and your feet will be sore afterwards, but from dancing rather than standing at the bar all night.

Cindy’s in the daytime…

For those who are awkward on nights out, myself and the rest of Cambridge included, this is one that we won’t necessarily love, but will be bearable.

I know from wandering around the city that there are two kebab-ish shops near the center, and both were just expensive enough for posh drunk people to buy from, but not for me.

The van of life is a legendary spot to gorge on sweaty food, that I have not yet experienced, but the van of death, or Franks, isn’t too bad, and this being the case, the van of life must truly be a haven.

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Belfast

How do we compare? Well it’s fair to say that Empire offers just as much as the whole of Cambridge in one evening, but in terms of Comedy, it’s much more likable and varied as well as the added bonus of being performed by actual comedians, who’s trembling first year self-esteem doesn’t hinge on this gig.

You can start the evening with a £3 pizza downstairs, to gather strength for the belly laughs ahead and there is plenty of cheap alcohol in the event that an act falls flat.

Each night they bring together a nice group of comedians, hosted by Colin Murphy or Jake O’Kane, and while I can’t speak for the latter, Murphy delivers some slightly drunk, very Irish, very funny bouts of laughs between acts.

However, if you don’t know what culchie means, some of the jokes may be a little confusing.

yes, so sweaty in Limelight

In terms of a night out, it has recently been confirmed that Limelight wins out, and for good reason. Of course you can pretty much wear whatever you want there and there are two main dance-y rooms to choose from.

The more vast of the two plays club classics mixed with the current charts where groups of girls scream that “their jam” is playing, and someone always seems to be trying to get past you to the bar.

That being said once assert your dominance (get your elbows out) to claim some space to dance in, it’s hard to have a bad time there, though I usually stick to the room that plays more alternative stuff (I just mean Arctic Monkeys instead of Calvin Harris okay…) with considerably more room on the floor to dance like no one is watching.

In fact Limelight is completely un-selfconscious, necessary because it is so fucking hot in there. To enter the girl’s toilet you will see endless blotting at sweaty makeup and general slumping against the wall because it is nice and cool on your back.

It’s kind of hard to worry about how you look while doing the sprinkler with a bright red sweaty face, and the beauty of that my friends is something I’ll pay £5 entry for. At the end of the day, there’s a bit of choice, a nice crowd and the freedom to wear flats and not be under dressed.

After dancing my legs off I am appalled at what my way home has to offer. I am from London, where you can see three chicken shops from any club, and so moving here has knocked me for six.

Gilgamesh doing a roaring trade

Most places close too early and the Gilgamesh queue tells you to just go home and have some toast.

While the late night culinary offerings of Cambridge were more satisfying than the toast of Belfast, the condensed nightlife there that combines only the most fulfilling parts of a night out, seems a little childish and deliberate.

The more matured entertainment and varied club options, even just within Limelight makes Belfast the winner, and of course, no bias at all.