Five things you won’t miss about Aber while you’re home for the summer

You probably aren’t complaining about your hometown clubs any more


Come on now, I bet you feel a little bit safer now that you’re back home and you don’t have to face packs of those chip thieving bastards that look like they are on a strict diet of steroids and child sacrifices. Aber seagulls are a rare breed – and when I say rare breed I mean they come across as a bit fucking meaner and bigger than any seagull I’ve seen anywhere else. You leave your flat and they are just there doing an Irish jig on the grass when you know really they are just trying to intimidate you for whatever food you may have on you.

Look at this size of that mofo

Look at the size of that mofo


We all have that one club back home that we try to avoid or is the last pit stop you go to at 2am because there’s no way you would go there sober. Well imagine that club being the main club of your university town and you have Yokos. It’s basically an old strip club with an uncomfortably small amount of breathing space. It smells of cheep booze, testosterone and desperation.

You queue for what seems like a lifetime before getting the dreaded Yokos stamp that will take couple of days to come off, unless you accept the help of bleach and/or a cheese grater. Honestly that stamp is less like a normal club stamp but more like Voldemort’s dark mark. You walk in after acting sober with your mates to get past the bouncers, and the next few hours turn into a blur of vodka shots, VKs and crap dancing.

You stagger out with what’s left of your group before waking up the next morning with a ringing head and the realisation that just maybe falling loudly back into the flat in a bannana onsie, waking your flat mates up at four in the morning was not the best of ideas.



That hill

You know what hill I’m on about – you just want to pop into town from your student accommodation have a nice walk along the beach maybe go to Tesco because you are sick of being ripped off at CK’s. You go back up the hill and then realise you forgot your oxygen mask and mountaineering equipment.

No worries, someone in the NHS thought it would be a laugh to stick a fucking cardiac monitoring unit halfway up the bloody thing! Thanks to this hill every day is leg day for students of Aberystwyth. It’s ok if you don’t get a good degree, thanks to this hill you could always apply for the Olympic cycling team.

Does it not tire you out just looking at it?

Does it not tire you out just looking at it?

CK’s/lip lickin’ fried chicken

If you live on top of the hill then you will know the over-priced joys of CK’s. Someone at their head office deserves a raise, it was a stroke of genius to stick an over-priced supermarket on top of a massive hill where lazy students who can’t afford a car live. It’s OK their meat is cheap if you can call their seagull with feathers still attached (sorry I mean chicken) meat at all.  Speaking of chicken let’s take a minute to talk about lip lickin’, there is no way you would ever go into that place sober.

Just walking past it can gain you calories and it’s reportedly possible to contract salmonella just from breathing in the fumes. It’s like Russian roulette eating there; one night you may have something that could pass off as a meal to feed your craving for a late night calorie-fest, another night kiss goodbye to your stomach lining because come morning that grease-fest is coming up into wherever you have just managed to jam your head into before chundering.

"The little guy with the hat" - Mr Lip Lickin'

“The little guy with the hat” – Mr Lip Lickin’

9ams after VT

I should really have just called this Wednesdays in general, because after vodka Tuesdays there is no way in hell that you are making that 9am. Why should you, you just got in only three hours ago and you’re still drunk.

What’s that? You want to pass your degree? Well you best drag your drunken ass out of bed and stumble into your lecture hall to be reminded by your course mates how bad your dancing was the previous night. You sit there with your head against the desk praying for the grace of god to either kill you or sober you up. By the time the lecture is over you suddenly remember that all of the lecture material that has gone over your drunken head is on blackboard anyway.

They all plan to make their 9ams tomorrow. Sigh

They all plan to make their 9ams tomorrow. Sigh

Let’s admit it though you’re secretly dying to come back and do it all again.