Every single person you’ll live with in halls
‘guys pls don’t leave dishes in the sink thank u’
From the minute you arrive laden down with your unique Ikea furnishings and flanked by a tearful mum it’s a case of sussing everyone out. Who are they? What are they about? What makes them tick? They probably fit into one of these categories.
The guy you always accidentally par off
When all’s said and done, Daniel is actually quite a nice guy. So why do you never invite him to your pres? And why do you keep excluding him from the taxis? He probably thinks you’ve got some sort of megalomaniacal plan to ruin his entire life, which is fair enough after that night you got back late and he caught you setting fire to all of his post.
Your overly interested lecturer
He knows too much about the layout of your halls, and the names of the wardens. When he asks you where the first course social will be tell him it’s in Aberdeen. He’ll say how “hip” you “guys” are – and by the time he’s realised the extent of your cruel rejection you’ll be 30 jagers deep and safe from his enthusiastic advances.
The ‘we need to talk about Kevin’ guy
He has an ant farm in his end room and he joined the assassins society but then realised it was just a game and swiftly left. He vaguely smells but you can’t tell him because you’re afraid he might come into your room at night with his crossbow, wearing only a stretched welcome week t-shirt and a pair of trainer socks.
A quite alright guy who’s just landed a job in the dark world of promo
Actually, Brian’s quite nice. So you feel for him and the situation he’s in after enthusiastically replying to a message asking if he wanted to give out flyers/dance in a swimsuit in July. A different breed to the run-of-the-mill, past-it events club owner and the second-year senior manager, you indulge him and his air of uncertainty in his attempt to get you to “the sickest night in Leicester”. They’ve got him now.
The girl who likes to experiment
Felicity, or ‘Flick’ as she insists on being called, has always harboured one enormous fear: she’s not very interesting. All her life she’s tried to be cool: her photography phase (black and white pics, moody), her literature phase (read half of Lolita, decided to be author) and now – with all the predictability of the speaking clock – her bisexual phase. Flick tells you all about it on the third night of Fresher’s when you’re both really drunk. She spends the rest of the year banging people who, funnily enough, appear to be guys.
A girl from Halifax who always goes home
Are your Saturdays down the Leisureplex with Chloe and Danielle more fun than us? We miss you, come back.
The one who’s never been on a night out before and goes nuts
Whether it’s from overbearing parents or their dead hometown, they’re not used to going on nights out. You’ll find them sprawled on the floor during predrinks telling everyone how much they love you and uni.
The halls tutor
They’re in their third year and don’t have any friends to live with, so they decide to live in halls and be a naggy mum to the freshers. Every time they tell you off is smugly rounded off with: “I really hate to have to do this, but it’s my job.”
Should you be lucky enough to get a cleaner in halls, this person will know more about you than all your new pals combined by the end of the year. There’s little they won’t see, but years of experience have numbed their judgement. You might get on with them quite well because, lets be honest, you quite miss your mum.
The post-it note person
“Guys please can we keep dishes out of the sink!? Thankssssss! – Jess xx”. “Guys, there’s no such thing as the dishes fairy, so can you please clean up what you use?, Thankss, Jess x”. “Please stop leaving dishes in the sink, It’s not ok I had to tidy up all of your predrinks shit before my History of English seminar this morning, please try to be more respectful. Jess.” You complain and snigger behind her back but really, deep down, you know Jess is the only one holding together any semblance of society. She’s saving you from chaos. You hate but cherish her.
The one with the car
Wanna come shop? Brilliant, a free lift. Bon’t expect to get it back, or put your feet on the dashboard, or change the music. And for God’s sake watch the door as you open it.
The second year
They were so involved in rugby they didn’t really get a chance to socialise with just one group of people – so they decided to go for another year in halls. This means one of two things. A – they’re a pervert who will try get with every one of you at the first opportunity they get. B – they’ll get so blind drunk every night, they trash your flat, steal your quilt and throw up in your shoes. Either way, you don’t want to be friends with them, and neither does anyone else.
Literally the only good one on your corridor. They are fine.
The person who totally misjudged the vibe of the uni
They applied to Bristol, didn’t get in, and now they’re at Lincoln snorting MD alone in their room. They’re at Bradford at a Monday night mixer in red chinos because they fucked up their A-levels and didn’t get into Durham. Their camembert has been left out on the side and is now congealed with VKs. Mum said it wouldn’t be like this.
The woman who takes your student card photo
Okay fair enough, she’s not actually living with you, but she’s still a major part of your life and she’s staying with you for the next three years thanks to this pic. Pointing a webcam is actually one of the easiest jobs around, so how is it you’ve ended up making me look like a cross between a jobbing ‘90s actor and a man who’s just been arrested for getting his dick stuck in a bin?
The girl who eats all your food
She’s turned you into the kind of soulless twat who puts a lock in your cupboard. Why won’t you just admit you ate all those ginger nuts when you came back from the gym? I’m not going to judge you.
The one who never had a nickname at school but invents one for uni
“What’s your name mate?” “Suhnah.” “Sorry man, didn’t catch that, what is it?” “Just call me SJ bro.” And this is how you met Sanjay for the first time. Sanjay wasn’t cool at school, more of a Chemistry kid, he never went to the cool parties, he just watched and waited like a shit Nick Carraway. All those years he dreamed of university, of becoming a new person, a better person, a person who’d fit in. Now you’re here (at De Montfort) and he’s decided today’s the day: just as Peter Parker became Spiderman, Sanjay will become SJ. But you smell the bullshit, the discomfort, the pain, from a mile away. “Cool SJ”, you say, smiling a little, “what’s your actual name mate?”.
The guy who wears a kilt to every formal
Their middle name’s actually Rory so they’ve got a really strong Scottish heritage apparently.
The one who still has their festival wristband on
A catalogue of coloured cotton will adorn their wrists. They’ll quiz you on all the acts you’ve ever seen and show off their tan lines from Creamfields. When it comes to a night out, they’ll be in the smoking area complaining about the crap chart music. It was a big summer for them.
Anyone with ‘back home friends’
It hasn’t been a week and you’ve already got to replace all your ham and milk. Why? Because Dirty Mike and the boys from Doncaster were up. Once you’ve got over your aggregate ham pain you’ll then get even more annoyed at the sheer lack of effort to socialise with you and your friends.
The local who plainly should not be in halls but won’t leave and is unapologetic about their theft
They live twenty minutes away and they’re the reason you couldn’t get self catered. How did they get a place? Fuck corruption.
That guy who literally will not shut up about the film Zeitgeist
We’re all just trying to make polite, well-meaning friendships based off what we got in our a-levels and the hilarious fact we both have the same Ikea mug from mum. But they’re in the middle of the conversation, telling you “mate, steel beams shouldn’t bend like that”. They sniff at your suggestions that maybe 9/11 isn’t the best topic to discuss over your first night ring of fire and tell you “it’s all on youtube mate, educate yourself”.
The one who’s ill all the time
Genuinely feel quite bad for them tbh.
The one who everyone else likes but you hate and you’re strangled by social niceties and can’t say anything
Harry’s good at football, smart, and instantly grasped the vibe of the uni. Girls love him and he can always get tickets for sold out events. Maybe it’s his overuse of the word dude or the smug way he describes the tattoos he got from travelling, but something about him pisses you off. While everyone else grows to love him, your mild annoyance festers into a passionate hatred that, although it doesn’t make sense, is more real than any other emotion you feel at uni.
The guy who plays drinking games with oversized cards
His mum took him shopping in town the weekend before freshers, and he ended up coming home with 70cl of Smirnoff and these beauties. Nothing screams fun like playing cards four times bigger than normal – they’re even more jokes than the ones he got free with last month’s copy of Nuts. Maybe we could even go extra wild and drink the shit-mix out of a saucepan.
The one who gets caught masturbating
Lock the fucking door Andrew.
The one too discerning for the freshers’ nights
This person had a job in a lightbulb factory in their year out. Without a gap year they had a year to decide who they really are before uni, and these freshers’ nights epitomise everything which is wrong with mankind.
The one with a taxi drivers’ personal number
“Guys it’s snowing and I can’t get through to anyone”, “don’t worry Terry will still pick us up”. And so Terry comes, risking his life on the icy roads. He lets you smoke in his car and squeezes 11 people into his four-seater. All he wants is to be loved and this person exploits it cruelly.
Posh Mike and his Uggs
Yeah well done Mike, you mastered loungewear-chic in the boarding school dorms and you’re lording it over us. But you’re at uni now, so no-one needs to hear about how you once tried them on at your girlfriend’s house in Surrey and never turned back, or how they’re like a cloud on your feet after a long day of rugby. Fuck you Mike, and fuck your Uggs.