On a more serious note, which uni has the biggest number of fuckboys?
It’s Leeds, surely
But have you ever stopped to think that some unis in the country have way more fuckboys than others? Lincoln University probably isn't crawling with them, but somewhere like Leeds has a fuckboy in ever corner of the club, waiting to ruin your life.
Whether it's a uni's reputation of a good nightlife the fuckboys are magnetised to, or its sporting prowess. For some reason, fuckboy potentials are being attracted to some unis more than others. And when they get there, that's when they form into fully fledged uni fuckboys.
So, which uni can be held responsible for having the most? Here's the rundown:
Let’s face it, the Bournemouth fuckboy didn’t have to say much. Once he handed you that Tropical VK, you were all his.
Where you’ll spot them: They’ll probably gaze over at you across MyU bar and then you’ll make awkward eye contact with them in the glass lifts, heading to your seminar in Fusion the next day.
How they’ll fuck you over: Bournemouth boys are all so middle class, so they’ll just return to their barn conversion in Surrey and it’ll be like you never even existed – because you’re definitely not good enough to meet mummy and daddy.
Where they’d take you on a date: Oh you think he’s going to take you on a date? That’s sweet. A 7bone and a stroll on the beach, if you’re really lucky.
They’ll ask you “Have you got a filter I can borrow?” in the Lakota smoking area whilst aggressively chewing their jaw off.
Where you’ll spot them: Most likely in Motion, but if you’re really unlucky they’ll be in Mbargo.
How they’ll fuck you over: Something to do with drugs.
Where they’d take you on a date: It’ll start out civilised in The White Lion pub in Clifton, and will end up with you ten pints under in the Cori Tap.
Where you’ll spot them: In MNB wearing boat shoes, drinking four VKs or worse, drinking from a bottle of Grey Goose.
How they’ll fuck you over: Shagging one of their posh girl mates from private school who came up to visit on the weekend (you will never be as rah as her).
You'll spot them in the SU on a Wednesday night or hanging outside Koko’s any other evening. Also, Cardiff fuckboys have a tendency to flock towards any event that involves the consumption of ketamine and/or MDMA.
How they’ll fuck you over: Cardiff guys are absolute wetties so they’ll just ghost you after leading you on rather than just explaining what the issue is. They’ll continue to like your fit selfies but they won’t ever message you back.
Where they’d take you on a date: They’ll ask if you wanna “do something” but will probably end up being something shit like a pint at The Woody or just a takeaway in bed. Cardiff boys don’t like making an effort.
How they’d chat you up: Typically by matching with you on a dating app and asking if you wanna “do something”. Honestly, Cardiff has the laziest fuckboys.
Coventry fuckboys will chat you up by telling you they could have gone pro for whatever sport they play, but instead they chose to do business management because they “love the grind”.
Where you’ll spot them: Out at Empire on a Wednesday for sports social, probably dressed in some awful costume for their societies theme. Usually topless.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll tell all the boys on their team that they slept with you and then they’ll block you on sc. Then they’ll leave you for a girl on the netball team.
Where they’d take you on a date: The Phoenix or Castle Grounds (because they’re sponsored by these pubs and they REALLY want you to know about it).
You'll spot them smoking outside George Square Library or sipping a Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks on Quartermile because they “tried it on their gap year”. Most likely wearing a black roll neck, classic Canada Goose coat and trackies like the ones your creepy year eight Geography teacher wore on trips.
How they’ll fuck you over: Ditch you for a golfing weekend with the boys in St Andrews, then they’ll pull your best mate in Rascals.
Where they’d take you on a date: The Christmas Markets, they’ll lure you in by forking out for the keepsake wine cup before getting you alone on the big wheel. He’ll treat you to dinner at the Ivy and will order for you- the cheapest thing off the menu, of course.
How they’d chat you up: Super cocky, he’ll ask you if you want to know what a Scotsman wears under his kilt. Except he’s from Surrey.
Where you’ll spot them: In the smoking area of TP.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll find someone blonder, posher, and sportier to snog on a Wednesday night, but don’t worry, he won’t text her back either.
Where they’d take you on a date: Firehouse.
How they’d chat you up: By telling you his parents have a lovely place in the country that you’d deffo be able to come visit when you become a serious couple.
They’ll be out at Club Chemistry wearing an expensive designer tee, jeans as tight as their skin and a pair of trainers more expensive than your monthly rent. During the day you’ll probably find them walking around campus with their gelled hair and now designer joggers and jumper because they all live at home as everyone who goes to Kent uni, is from Kent.
How they’ll fuck you over: they’ll take you home to their mum and treat you to an expensive dinner but then they’ll give you the “I’m just not ready yet” line because they’re still fucking three girls they went to school with and haven’t mentally matured enough yet to do anything serious with anyone.
Where they’d take you on a date: with an array of restaurants in Canterbury, they’ll take you to one of the expensive ones over looking the cathedral. Or because they’re a typical white boy, expect Nando’s. Or just a “few drinks” at the local Spoons.
How they’d chat you up: In their common south east accent expect a “alright darling, you look absolutely lovely today” with a cheeky smile and a gleam in their eye. They’ll keep giving you the look of seduction and eventually your vagina won’t be able to handle it anymore. Fucking tricksters.
They'll be at the Strand Pret, ordering a coconut latte and looking as moody as ever.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll just be too damn busy to spend time with you.
Where they’d take you on a date: Waterfront.
How they’d chat you up: Tell you about all the causes they stand for and how woke they are.
You’ll know them when you see them on Tinder because, even if it's not in their bio, their first picture will be them behind the decks at a house party in Hyde Park.
How they'd chat you up: “Are you going to Wire tomorrow?”
How you'll know something is happening between you two: Sooner or later, they’ll ask you to follow them on SoundCloud and they’ll inevitably show you their “summer ’17 warm up mix”.
How they'd fuck you over: Even when they shag your best mate and you stop talking, you’ll still listen to their banging pres playlist because you can’t deny they have a good taste.
Where you’ll spot them: Lurking in Level smoking area, on the look out for naive freshers that still think Level is a decent club.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll start out well, you might think they’re actually a nice guy but soon enough your conversations will just be a string of “you up?🍆” texts.
Where they’ll take you: They won’t, they’ll promise expensive dates to the docks, but in reality your dates are just an Uber over to theirs.
How they’d chat you up: They’ll definitely offer to buy you a drink, and somehow four vodka lemonades later you’re in the Uber back to their Smithdown house.
They'll chat you up by telling you they’ve got a budding DJ career and they can take you all the best house parties. In reality he’s just a boring bloke from the home counties who spend his student loan on overpriced vintage garms and had to ask his parents for an allowance.
Where you’ll spot them: The smoking area of the Friendship surrounded by edgy boys in fleeces and girls in fur jackets and flares. They all look unbearable but you still kind of wish you were in their crew.
How they’ll fuck you over: He’ll suddenly get a little bit too cool and get a following of basic hippy girls who are bit more druggy than you and therefore make him look temporarily cooler. He’ll shag all of them and then his career will end and you’ll be better off.
Where they’d take you on a date: Fallow cafe for a few too many beers.
He’ll be in Bar Blanc’s smoking area, sat in a massive group who have held a monopoly on the space since they arrived at 11am. His blonde, floppy posh boy hair will light up red from the glowing lights of the outdoor heater, chain smoking rollies in a black North Face puffer jacket and Nike TNs.
How they’ll fuck you over: After years of on again, off again, snogging to the sound of juddering drum and bass noises in WHQ, he’ll straighten out in third year. Concentrating on his essays and getting with a blonde netballer who went to piano lessons with his cousin. You will be just one part of his university “wild phase” before he becomes a suited insurance broker who walks fast with coffees and has a holiday home in Devon.
Where they’d take you on a date: You’ll come over to his and mong on a grimy sofa with his friends as they take Ket and giggle at things that aren’t funny.
How they’d chat you up: “Can I have a filter?” he asks, when you tell him he can take a whole stick the flirting begins, “so generous”.
Sitting across the Square, he's probably sipping on a Snakey B at 2pm in a big group of lads either all wearing puffas and beanies, smoking rollies or wearing football stash head to toe. There is no in-between.
How they’ll fuck you over: You’ll think everything’s going well, until you decide to go out late to the LCR and see him getting with some other girl in Blue Bar. You’ll spend the rest of your night crying in the smoking area, then doing a sad walk to the Hatch, getting some soggy curly fries and then going home alone.
Where they’d take you on a date: The Lake. All your home friends will think it’s the cutest idea ever, going for a romantic walk around the lake, maybe having a little picnic. But let’s be honest, he’s only taking you there because he thinks he’s gonna get lucky and finally be able to complete one of the 5Ls.
How they’d chat you up: They’ll ask you to go and watch their football game all the way in Colney, and then at sports night will try to make you fall for them to the sound Natalie Imbruglia’s ‘Torn’.
He'll be lurking outside the humanities library smoking a cig on a come down, drinking a black coffee and reading 100 Years of Solitude.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll string you along without committing, telling you they don’t believe in the conventional meaning of a relationship and that relationships are a myth perpetuated by the patriarchy.
Where they’d take you on a date: A small Jamaican bar where he can show off his extensive knowledge of reggae culture.
You'll spot the Royal Holloway fuckboy in the SU, surrounded by a big group of girls.
How they’ll fuck you over: There are literally so few boys in Egham that even if he’s a bit average he’ll have girls all over him, you didn’t stand a chance.
Where they’d take you on a date: The Packhorse for some cocktails and a bit of shisha.
How they’d chat you up: They wouldn’t even chat you up, you’re the one on the chase here, you’re chatting him up by any means possible.
Where you’ll spot them: In Corporation with a blue stain covering the front of their shirt, thanks to their Rainbow pint missing their mouth. They’ll later be found in Balti King with the boys being a general ruckus.
Where they’d take you on a date: Kelham Island.
How they’d chat you up: “WELL I BET THAT YOU LOOK GOOD ON THE DANCEFLOOR”
You'll spot them at the Union, probably wearing a blazer or sports tie. They seem ten times hotter under the slightly purple lighting.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll magically reconnect with their old school girlfriend on their ski trip to Val D’isere and tell you "this just isn’t working out."
Where they’d take you on a date: Little Italy, if you’re lucky. Otherwise it’s a boring Pizza Express night for you.
How they’d chat you up: "So, which school did you go?"
You'll spot a Sussex fuckboy in a vegan restaurant on the Laines, holding a Bonsai tree in one hand and an almond flat white in the other.
How they’ll fuck you over: You’ll argue about Cowspiracy and how them doing cocaine every weekend makes them a shit vegan. He’ll give you an ultimatum, and really he’s not worth missing out on steak for.
Where they’d take you on a date: Somewhere which specialises in falafel.
Where you’ll spot them: Along Gloucester Road, crouched down outside holding a tinnie and smoking a rollie, waiting to go inside the Love Inn.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll cancel your dinner plans so they can buy some ket.
Where they’d take you on a date: Lakota, to take some ket.
How they’d chat you up: "Would you like some ket?"
Warwick fuckboys are one of a kind. They're not even that special, but because everyone is so horribly below-average and boring, you'll settle for anyone mildly interesting.
Where you’ll spot them: Usually during POP! Wednesday or Smack Thursday. They’re probably a rugby, football or Lacrosse player.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll ditch you for a girl who’s got a summer internship at Goldman Sachs.
Where they’d take you on a date: Somewhere bland like Zizzi’s or Pizza Express. Or if you’re lucky, they’ll treat you to a Millenium Balti.
How they’d chat you up: They actually know everything about you, through their mate. So they’ll come up to you, fully knowing your name and list all the mutual friends you have.
You'll spot them in Mambo Lounge on a Kuda Tuesday, buying overly expensive drinks just to show off the fact their Dad has given the best years of his life to accountancy. They’ll be wearing torn jeans and Yeezy’s, trying to pretend they don’t go to York.
How they’ll fuck you over: They’ll say they have too much work on even though they only study ABFM, and secretly they’re watching Netflix with some bog standard Goodricke girl.
Where they’d take you on a date: To Evil Eye for cocktails, thinking no-one knows about it when it’s where literally everyone went with the housemate they were shagging in the first term.
How they’d chat you up: “I have a car that my Mummy and Daddy pay for.”
With contributions from: Annabel Murphy, Lucy Woodham, Jonny Long, Annie Lord, Roxy Alexander, Hayley Soen, Mared Parry, Phoebe Libbish, Lauren Reeves, Emilie Bowen, Georgia Davies, Fern Davidson-Averill, Georgie Sheehan and Sam Milne.