Which Mighty Boosh character is your uni?

The internet’s a powerful tool these days

Come with us now on a journey through crudely drawn stereotypes and rehashed jokes, to the university equivalents of the Mighty Boosh.

Whether you’re Vince Noir, Howard Moon or Charlie, the inuit-swallowing hoover made of bubblegum, one thing’s for sure: you’re about to go deep into the heart of darkness and confront the terrifying abyss.

UCAS – Mr Susan

Will it be this one here? Will it be this one here? There are over 17 universities in the United Kingdom: which one will you pick!?

You want to take your time and examine all the options carefully, but here is UCAS, the big old mirror world of UCAS with its deadlines, dancing around in front of you screaming “now it is time for you to do the choosin’” and you panicked and told a bunch of lies in your personal statement and what did you do?

Well you ended up at Lincoln, didn’t you? Idiot.

Aberdeen – The cavemen

This just in: two Aberdeen graduates attempt a job interview in the real world.

Aberystwyth – Old Gregg

Living in a craggy place next to the sea will do strange things to people. You’ll crave company, invite people to drink Bailey’s – a very outdated drink meant for old people – and get involved in strange activities like rowing a boat or painting watercolours.

Hey, want to come to a club where people wee on each other?

Bath – The Ape of Death

There’s nothing much to you beyond your great body and your great hair.

Birmingham – Tommy

Yes, the city itself is hideous to behold, but when Old Joe chimes… oh, then Birmingham’s beauty shines forth and lights up the midlands!

Bristol – Naboo The Enigma

People accuse you of cultural appropriation for wearing turbans to Motion. You refuse to wear shoes, even in seminars.You think Tusk is the best Fleetwood Mac album.

I’m sorry, edgy Bristol folk, but we’re going to have to turn our backs on you.

Brookes – Bollo

Completely inept, but very strong because you’re probably a meathead. You DJ at Fabric which you think is well edgy, but little do you know everyone thinks it’s shit.

Despite your best efforts to fuck it up, you’re the loveable oaf of the group. Don’t change.

QUB and Cardiff – Fire and Naan bread

Part of the Russell Group but always cruelly dismissed by the smug English universities, Cardiff and Queen’s still try their best to be involved.

They tell us we’re definitely not part of this because we’re just the token Irish/Welsh unis, but every time it’s always the same “not you fire,” “not you naan bread,” “not you QUB and Cardiff.” The world is cruel.

Durham – Nicholas the tennis rat and Dante the racist badger

Seriously, do you know any Durham students who don’t look like this?

Often seen wearing tweed and hailing from the elderberry woods of Surrey, they’ve come to Durham to sit under willow trees on the banks of the Wear eating cucumber sandwiches – although they’d much rather be punting down the lazy rivers of Cambridge Town.

Edinburgh – Mrs Gideon

You’re a fringe character in the Russell Group, a relatively bland university which people still have a weird infatuation with. You don’t mind: you’re happy tending to your koi carp, or fantasising about trumpets and bookmarks.

Exeter – Sandstorm

You’ve had such a sheltered Home Counties upbringing, going to university is going to give you a real shock. Gloves? What is gloves? Drugs? What is drugs?

Within three weeks you’ll be at Move, mouth dry as sandpaper, stroking your cheeks and saying never before have I felt the soft contours of my face, never have I lightly caressed the angular frame which is my torso. Aaaaaah, glove love.

Falmouth – Milky Joe and The Coconuts

Look at you, stick-thin and wiry-haired with your poncey silk scarves and hi-tech video cameras, creeping around taking arty Instagrams and peeping at your subjects from the bushes like Gustav himself.

You call yourself a “creative,” but all that means is that you put on a fake French accent and are essentially an arse.

Glasgow – Tony the tramp

Viper tonight? Better pop on your wondrous cape and down a few of the old “electric soups.” Bucky or Tennents, your choice.

The Guildhall School of Music and Drama – Simon McFarnaby

Ah yes, Guildhall, one of the foremost exponents of devised theatre in the country. Who cares if people think you’re “a bit wooden” or that you “look like a conker” – who cares, you’ve got some lead roles lined up for the autumn.

Hull – Gary Numan

Why is Gary Numan in the Mighty Boosh, I hear you ask? Well here’s a better question, why are you at Hull? Some mysteries are just too depressing to unpack.

Keele – The wind

Week 12… Keele still in the middle of nowhere. All is lost. So alone… Wind my only friend…

*I haaaate yoouuuuuu*

Shut up wind!

Kent – Kodiak Jack

Everything’s a bit backwards in Kent – you probably live in a rickety wooden cabin, babbling on about tiny animal penises and referring to your mobile as a “talkie stick.”

King’s – Dennis

The boring straight-edged head of the Shamans, yep, that’s you. No-one really likes you, but they all listen to you because not only are you better than everyone else, you know it and you’ll probably be successful enough to bag a really good-looking wife who’s an extreme sports calendar model.

It’s probably the faux-artiness stemming from all the ridiculous trips you’ve had, but Dennis, we haven’t even taken the drugs yet.

Lancaster – Montgomery Flange

Deep in the North West, after Preston but before Kendal, you will find Lancaster’s secret woodland acting dojo.

Is this a top 10 university? No, it’s Niagara Falls, a seagull, cheese in the shape of a question mark. Who the fuck is Mark E. Smith?

Leeds – The Crack Fox

“Howdy. I’m a Leeds student. This isn’t rubbish, this is Hyde Park, this is ma home. Do you like my Adidas headband? Do you like my galoshes? They’re ma squishy boots. I bought them in Best Vintage.”

You read about Leeds in a copy of Cheekbone magazine, and you hopped on a train up north like the wilful little fox that you are – three weeks later you were off your tits at Canal Mills, the fun fun times for you. Alas, though, the party lifestyle took its toll.

Now you spend your days on a busted sofa in front of your Brudenell Road house, begging for cheese and asking passers-by to pull you apart like soft bread.

Leicester – Phil the Reaper

Phil the Reaper comes to collect your soul when you die  – and Leicester is basically purgatory for your social life.

Lincoln – The plan pony

Because doing this with crayons is the extent of a degree from Lincoln.

Liverpool – Ebola and Anthrax

There are two aims of people at Liverpool. Be a bit different, and dress up to cement being a bit different. Cue, Ebola and Anthrax.

Named after two very lethal things, and dressed in ridiculous outfits to match, more effort goes into appearance than anything else.

Loughborough – Banoo

The fittest, strongest and fastest in the land, that won’t stop you turning up late for every single one of your lectures.

Manchester – Charlie

The students of Fallowfield are genius: they’re made from a million pieces of bubblegum scraped off the bottom of a million vintage pairs of Air Max.

They’ve set fire to their middle-class upbringing like it’s nothing more than a posh hammer, and now they zoom about the place with noses like giant bubblegum hoovers, sucking up everything in their path.

Newcastle – Dixon Bainbridge

You should be at uni but your ingrained snobbery means you’re only ever turning up for the social occasions or the big events with pills hidden in your moustache, while you spend the rest of your time in exotic locations.

After all, you can submit essays online and Jesmond has nothing on your family’s lodge in Botswana.

Northumbria – Bob Fossil

You go way back with Bainbridge. Maybe you’ll get a kiss on the cheek from a Newcastle student, maybe on the mouth, who knows how lucky you’ll get.

You probably don’t even know what a kangaroo is – don’t you mean the guys with the little hands, and the pocket, with the little version of themselves?

Nottingham – The brain cell

You can jazz yourself up all you like, but really everyone at Nottingham is just a boring, identical slab of grey matter.

You’ll spend your whole time studying, whether it’s aqua-bling fashion trends or extra texts for your History exam, and ultimately you’ll end up leading a boring desk-bound life with a lovely Vince and two little Vinces at home.

Nottingham Trent – The white blood cells

We are all Trent. We will never help you.

What if I give you my Ocean ticket?

We will help you.

Oxbridge – The Hitcher

When are you going to understand, Oxbridge? Young people aren’t interested in eels and Victorian nonsense – they like Pret a Manger and Lily Allen. You’ve become obsolete.

You’re living in the past!

Portsmouth & Plymouth – Future sailors

Royal Holloway – The Spirit of Jazz

Emerging from the swamps of Virginia Water, you’ve an outdated love for Jazz – probably because of all the old people you live next to.

Why didn’t anyone tell you Founders was on fire?

Sheffield – Howard Moon

People think you’re distinctly average. You’re in need a bit of a facelift, polar bears prefer your more attractive sidekick and kraftwerk orange don’t want you because you’re a jazz freak who plays the bassoon.

But you’re actually pretty creative and original, just in a 1970s way – after all, you’re the sheriff of stationery village. Look, you just do many things other people don’t know about. You span a lot of genres. They call you the genre spanner.

Southampton – The Betamax Bandit

Bitter that all the fitties are further down the coast with Spider at Sussex, you’re now deeply bitter at your lack of development and make life hard for anyone who visits.

St Andrews – The Parka People

Far off in the cold nether-regions, you’ll find the parka people. Sure, they’re wearing Canada Goose, but it’s necessary because of all the snow.

Look deep into the Parka People’s face, and you’ll see your deepest desire – a degree at Oxbridge or bagging the next Prince William.

Strathclyde – Black Frost

Ice flow, nowhere to go. Lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra, it’s an icy bastard, a bit scary, and it likes really old bad music. It will kill you if you fuck with it.

Stirling – The Egg of Mantumbi

Many have gone searching for the mystical Stirling campus, only to encounter Black Frost and be crushed like crisps under bison.

Sussex – Spider Dijon and Rudi van DiSarzio

After the rigamarole of A Levels, you headed to Brighton in search of the new sound, you returned a psychedelic Jesus.

First year was spent with your balls in a guitar, strumming yourself to ecstasy. In second year you were given a sacred robe of the psychedelic monks  and spent a little too much time sucking hair before Carlos Santana became interested in your bongo skills.

You realised in third year that you had forgotten to look inside your own mind.

UAL – Mod Wolves

UCL – Vince

You belong in London. You can’t go on an adventure without bringing some portion of London with you, be it Cheekbone magazine or eight weeks worth of vintage clothes.

In a busy city, you’ll have to stand out: you’ll need a mirror ball suit, the glam rock ski suit, a mod hair cut, an endless supply of cowboy boots. You’re a cockney bitch, after all.

UEA – Tony Harrison

Sombreros?? On white people!? This is an outrage!!!

Most people just want to chill out, maybe enjoy Pimping their Barrow, but every time anyone tries to have fun at UEA here comes the miserable SU (Board of Shaman) sinking their oily tentacles into everything, telling you that you should be outraged about everything which has ever happened and ever will happen. You can’t just turn those emotions on and off like a tap!

UWE – Kirk

UWE, is it true that you’re full of MDMA-addled and sexually deranged beings who believe they’re from the fourth dimension?

Warwick – Howard’s yearly planner

A pictorial representation of Warwick nightlife.

York – The Moon

When you are York, you pretty much split people down the middle.

Some people go: “Aww look at York, he’s all gentle, with his nice white face, hanging there on the outskirts of a medieval town. He’s nice.”

And the other half go: “Oooohh he’s a vanilla boring uni, get him away from my UCAS application!”