Here’s the definitive list of every type of person you hate at university

If you can’t think of anyone you know like this, it’s you

Halls cleaners

Why are you so angry all the time? What is so awful? Is this about the chicken I left out on the side? You won’t talk to me about it, but you caught my eye this morning when I was leaving and you know what, you made me feel this big. It’s impossible to complain about the surly demeanor of halls cleaners without sounding like exactly what you are, a privileged little shit who can’t look after yourself. They know this, and they feed off of it. It’s what keeps them going.They know you’re going to pay £15 to repair the broken dustpan, even though literally nowhere in the world charges £15 for the service of repairing dustpans, because you’re too embarrassed to complain. They see you squirming and they thrive.

Mature students

In any other walk of life, the age difference of five, 10, even 20 years would just be a number. But what is it about them? Is it because they’re so apologetic? Is it because they tell you about the life they’ve lead before uni? Is it because they ask questions in every bloody class? They’re metapods.

People who get firsts

Congratulations on missing the point for the last three years of your life

Rugby boys

You peaked in ‘08, and now everyone looks at your antics with nostalgic embarrassment. You never grew out of the “hilarious” Facebook groups we all joined in 2012 and can somehow say “cringe”, “banter”, “chunder” and “unay” unironically. Nobody wants to know the difference between union and league or go out on a Wednesday night with you anymore.




It’d be relevant if we were in America, but we aren’t. Life isn’t Bring It On. Here you’re just netball cast-offs who huddle together in the toilets talking about how good “cheer” has made your friendship and how it’s a legitimate sport taking you to “nationals”.

Food bloggers

“I made this pasta dish in 10 minutes, so easy to do and perfect for library revision. The incredients are simply pasta and water! Please like my blog.”

#blessed #100happydays #gettheglow


Dead-eyed and dull, lawyers are miserable and unremarkable from the moment they start freshers. They’ll spend three years telling you about their A Levels and how they’re for partner before 30. Watch them sneer at your degree from their cult of the busy, telling you about The Bar before they end up working in a bank after graduation.

SU Presidents

Desperate and sinister twenty-somethings, their aura is omnipresent on campus. Always equipped with a fleece, half a beard and a smile showing way too much teeth, your SU president could promise you endless perks until they’re hoarse, but they can’t hide what they’re really saying: “Please, please do not make me enter the real world.”


Guys pls


They have a logical mind. We don’t know anything more about them because otherwise they’re too mind-numbingly boring to hold a conversation with.



People asking for more paper in exams

You’re only 15 minutes in, how could you possibly need this?

Post grads

Lonely, solitary creatures, trying to convince you it’s okay to still be at uni at 29 and their thesis on the minutiae of Medieval England is truly groundbreaking.

Busy third years

Being a “finalist” is no excuse to be boring.

Student journos

“Absolutely chuffed to pieces to announce I have in fact secured a three day internship at the Barnstaple Chronicle. Cracking rag.” Just on the hunt for the next scoop aren’t you? You can tell by your shorthand notepad. Except you don’t actually do any real journalism, do you? What do you actually do? Apart from filling your Twitter feed with “journo requests”, references to “filing some copy” and links to the open letters you write for your blog.


Political societies

I remember reading my first Owen Jones article too.

People who bring their mopey home long distance boyfriend up to visit

Hey Max, this is everyone. Everyone, meet Max. He’s come up to visit for a couple days from Reading, we went to school together. He’s a trainee lifeguard at the local pool, aren’t you sweetie? We’re going for a catch up dinner at Wagamama but we’ll definitely see you later for pre-drinks if we’re not feeling too tired. American Horror Story is on Netflix.

People who go to uni in their home town

Why are you so terrified of everything.

Gap year wankers

People who didn’t get into Oxbridge and literally never shut up about it

Everything happens for a reason eh? You were too fun for it anyway. God just like, imagine you got in. You’d have to wear those gowns all the time and speak Latin. You wouldn’t be half as cool. And you know what, you still did good in your A Levels, and if you worked really hard you could get a first at your uni. Getting into Oxbridge is an archaic representation of privilege you’re glad you’re not a part of.

Stop trying to convince yourself – the empty feeling of rejection will never leave you.

People who ask questions in lectures

We’re all just trying to get through this together you fucking scab.

Club promoters




Postgrads who now live in halls as supervisors/wardens

See “post-grads” – but all up in your face, in your bathroom, constantly talking to you like you’re 12 and they’re the grown up who knows best.

Desk hoggers

They’re ruining our lives, these people who leave their laptops, books and smell pens out in the open for hours on end. No wonder people are having stuff nicked.

You are the clichéd German with a towel on the deckchair. You are a Gareth Keenan in a world of Tim Canterburys. You are a snide.



Anyone who actually buys and uses nice stationery

I know you’ve put a lot of effort into your groovy chic pencil-case, but it’s not coming off as ironic as you might think. Let me borrow one of your highlighters and tell me about your time as Head Girl.

People with a laptop and a computer in the library

I hope your Mac smashes on the floor. I hope you lose your pen drive.

People who write for The Tab

“It’s not even real journalism, it’s just shit. Why do they think it’s gonna look good on their CV? I could let my cat walk over my keyboard and write a Tab article. In fact, I’m going to write an angry Yak about it right now.”



People who use the wrong library

You in the wrong hood sugar.

People who bring coffee to 9am tutorials

You’re not a doctor on ER, you’re not even tired, you just want everyone to know you’re struggling.

People who wear pyjamas to lectures

“What’s the big deal?” You. You’re the big deal. You’re failing to perform the most basic of adult functions.

People who wear last night’s bar crawl t-shirt to lectures

Did this legend go out last night? You wouldn’t know it with the word cunt written on the back of their neck. The goal: you’re thinking they got lucky last night, failed to wake up early enough, and thought “I’ll just have to go to lectures in all my clothes from last night”. They didn’t – they went home alone and took their carnage t-shirt off, changed underwear, sprayed some deodorant and put it back on.


God they’re just mad aren’t they? They’re just bloody mad. Always out, Medics. More fun than you’d think. Just don’t tell anyone, they don’t want to lose the job they’ll get in 12 years.


Absolutely jokes

Girls who cry outside exams

There is literally absolutely nothing I can do to help you at this time in your life.

People who leave exams early

Always the first to give us that sinking feeling by asking what you put for question four, this keeno won’t even give you a chance to answer before waxing on how their work became an ingenious mash up of wormhole theory, algebra and Freud. A good captain should always go down with their ship.

The person on your group presentation who did nothing

First of all Steve what the fuck? We said we’d do two slides each and meet up on Monday night to put it together. I booked a group study room and sat there waiting for you. You didn’t even show up and then you stand there bold-as-brass on Tuesday morning while the rest of us read out everything we’ve painstakingly copied and pasted from Wikipedia, acting like nothing’s happened. You swan out knowing you’ve got your 10 per cent participation without a care in the world. You know what, fuck you.

Anyone in a band at uni

They were bigshots in the mid-to-late 2000s when Arctic Monkeys and guitar bands got the girls and people actually bought albums, but those days and buried and gone forever. Nobody wants to see your cesspit of check shirts, wonky fringes and riffs ripped from 2002 Libertines B-Sides. Just because they won’t accept it’s over, your inbox is drowning in invites to their “gigs” in a grotty locals pub.

Taxi drivers

They can hear right through your accent and know your voice isn’t as common as you’re trying to make it out to be. It’s hard to say “busy night tonight?” in a voice which doesn’t betray your privileged upbringing.

SU bar workers

We all accept Britain’s Got Talent has slightly elevated the reputation of bartenders, and we’re all happy to indulge your petty tyranny in order to, y’know, get served a bit quicker. But look mate, I know you from lectures. You were in my seminar group. Why are you suddenly making me wait 15 minutes for an Apple Sourz and calling me “pal” when you serve me?

People who are really keen in freshers to let you know they’re older than you

From the moment you meet them they will say the year they left school so you know they are a bit older. It’s like their chronic insecurity about how old they look force them to reaffirm how old they are, and blame it on their shit gap year.

Second years who belittle you as a fresher

The most insufferable horrors you could ever meet, these 19-year-old second years will coo “awww fresher” at every opportunity to remind you you’re a fresher. Belittling in the extreme, they take any opportunity to patronise your genuine questions to make themselves seem more mature by comparison. They might only be six months older than you but they will not let you forget you’re a “sweet, innocent little first year”.

The person shagging really loudly in halls

Let’s be honest, you’re probably just fingering. Why don’t you both simmer down. You’re basically Jay from The Inbetweeners but less developed. How many times did you go out last week? How many people did you get with? Ah loads mate, can’t stop whatsapping them all now.

People who sell weed

“Yeah mate it’s Chub. I’m just here with Jesus and wanted to know if you want some deep cotch tonight mate. Yeah mate I get it from my uncle. He only lives around the corner – It’s why I came to uni here mate!”



The two people in halls who shag in freshers and ruin it for everyone else

Remember how fun Ashley and Darren were in freshers week? Remember how they ended up going home together a few nights, and everyone laughed it off? They spent most of first term pretending they weren’t shagging through your paper thin walls, and the rest of it pretending they weren’t tearfully screaming at each other while everyone else on your corridor is forced to stare at the ceiling and awkwardly listen in. Now you have to deal with Ashley sniffing over her frosties and trying to ignore a barefoot Darren creeping through with the bitch out of the year above he pulled last night. Nobody can enjoy predrinks together anymore without it ending in a heart to heart beside the microwave. The tension is thick. Everything is ruined.

The person going through a sexual awakening and always says they’re going through a sexual awakening

“Haha, I know I’m just having a bit of a ‘wild phase’ right now but ever since I was dumped I just feel like I want to experiment a bit, you know? Have you ever heard of demiaromanticsexuality? I guess I just see porn as enlightening, I was talking about it when we discussed phallic imagery in my English seminar today.”

People who don’t drink and tell everyone why they’re not drinking and why you shouldn’t drink either

I get it, you’re living clean. You can have fun without alcohol. You feel sorry for anyone who needs it for confidence. It’s made you feel so much better in yourself and your friends enjoy spending time with you a lot more. They don’t – you’re lying to yourself you insufferable bore.

People who talk to their mums a bit too much

Sorry guys, all 10 of you are going to have to leave the room. Quick, turn Netflix off. It’s Mum, she’s asking if I need a bit more cash for Waitrose and whether she needs to email about withdrawing their donation after my tutor was so nasty to me last week. They might come up and get my laundry, haven’t washed the sheets in a few weeks.


If you can’t get me guestlist you’re nothing.

The person who doesn’t do drugs and tells you this relentlessly

See “people who don’t drink and tell everyone” – except worse.

The person who does drugs and tells you this relentlessly

Have you ever considered how ironic it is weed has never killed anyone, and yet it’s illegal?


Oh, legend

Whoever is responsible for the shit club night you keep getting dragged to

Everyone’s going to be there tonight, come on! It’s going to be huge. We have guestlist and queue jump, all the boys are going to be there. Three pound doubles, we’re wearing our good shirts and a squirt of Diesel Only The Brave. Just don’t bail after an hour like last time, that’s when it really started to kick off.

People who complain about the music

The night is called 90s throwback you knew exactly what this was.

People who think they know where the drop is in a song

You’re feeling it. It’s coming. Building up, here it comes, wait for it, wait for it. You’re standing there rotating your wrists and pointing to the ceiling, head held back, feeling the beat. The lights are off now. Here it comes. Yeah, there it is. Sick. Now you can dance again without worrying. Glad that’s over.

People who take their shoes off in the library


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‘You can’t get your photocopier credits here’

This insipid phrase, uttered with hateful glee by officious librarians, is the university equivalent of a cowardly French collaborator denying exit visas to survivors fleeing Nazi terror. At 4:57pm, they will not allow you to buy a pound of credit to photocopy vital seminar notes from them. You have to go to the admin desk, it’s a five minute walk away but we’ll be shut by the time you get back. No amount of reasoning will convince them to let you use their dusty photocopier, even though you desperately need it. They will take their half-moon specs off the end of the nose and let them dangle from a loose cheap metal strap before retreating into their miserable office, allowing you to be swallowed up by the approaching German war machine.

Fit lecturers

What do you want from me? There is nothing I can do in this situation, I can only look at you from afar. Why are you here?


Anyone who goes to Cambridge

“Ah, Cambridge? Cambridge! College? Ah, a Jesus man!” “Do you get the joke or is it just a Cambridge thing?” “Oh what do you call them? Tutors? Supervisors at Cambridge.” It’s all they talk about until suddenly someone from Peterhouse is accused of brutally murdering two Thai masseuses and then it’s not okay to say you went to the college next door.

That girl/boy I like who doesn’t even know who I am

People who bring their car to uni

You know what, I’m glad you left your Macbook in the back and had the window smashed. You fucking deserve it Danielle.

Anyone on course for a 2:2 who thinks it’s the most classic thing ever

Remember those people who said they could spell out “FUDGE” with their GCSE results? You gave it a like and you all laughed together over some WKD in the park. Where are they now? Probably down Wetherspoons with you laughing over your 2:2.

Anyone who is ‘going for a first’

No, no, no, can’t come out. Mate, it’s February. You enjoy your Friday night out though, just keep it down when you come in.

People who expose the comfortable upbringing you’re trying to hide

Arriving at uni after a contented childhood in a private – sorry, independent – school, you find yourself treading carefully through any conversation about home, lest anyone find out about your winters on Caribbean islands and summers learning how to drink wine in Californian vineyards. The slightest slip of the tongue will expose you as the over-educated, happy middle classer you are. The words you dread are coming: Oh my god, you’re posh!