What’s the worst nightclub in Bristol? Vote now
Burn down the disco
There are lots of clubs in Bristol. Seriously. Google it. There’s fucking tons of them.
You’d think the wide variety would mean it’s easy to find a night out you enjoy, but in reality you have to make do with pretending you enjoy being there instead.
“Yeah Motion was sick last night man.”
“Yeah bro, it got messy in Lounge.”
We all know that, like everything else in life, the clubs in Bristol are actually quite shit. But which one’s the shittest? We thought we’d let you decide.
Remember first year? Remember going to Bunker and paying £2.80 for a double vodka mixer and then standing in the smoking area trying to look cool and as if you were having a good time?
Nah, I don’t remember it either. I was pretty drunk at the time.
Reasons to avoid Bunker:
- the floor is really sticky
- it’s full of freshers
- the sports teams come here on Wednesday
Ahhhhh Lounge. Lounge, Lounge, Lounge.
There’s something pretty laudable, nay heroic, about the way Lizard Lounge is consistently the worst night out you can have in Bristol.
To its defenders, Lounge is the epitome of everything the student experience should be about: dirt-cheap booze (one pound beers/one pound strawpedos/one pound shots), deeply embarrassing hook-ups and genuinely shit music.
To its detractors, it’s the epitome of everything the student experience shouldn’t be about: gross drinks, a gropey dance floor full of moronic “lads” and genuinely shit music.
Pryzm is a horrible faux-megaclub that’s somehow got worse since it changed its name from Oceana. Winner of “Worst Club 2013”, it’s mainly frequented by hen parties from Cardiff and lost Geography students.
Pryzm is notorious for overselling tickets to it’s 2013 Halloween party, resulting in mass carnage in the queue outside.
As a spectacle this bust up was quite something: imagine all the grim horror and can’t-look-away amazement of an M25 pile-up, populated exclusively by people who overdid it at pre-drinks.
If you do end up inside Pryzm (poor you!), it will exhaust you with its surplus rooms, chintzy bars and hangar-like dancefloors, all designed with virtuoso tackiness in mind.
It’s like a night out in a bathroom designed by the bastard offspring of Saddam Hussein and Kim Kardashian.
Want to have a shit time on a Friday night? Yeah!
Want to party with lawyers, and medics? Hell Yeah!
Then head down to the O2 Academy for Ramshackle.
The sheer scale and pointlessness of this night out is quite grand in its own boring ass way.
Oh look, it’s another shithole you probably haven’t been to since Fresher’s Week.
And what a glorious shit hole this place is.
On Friday night it’s packed to the roof with UWE kids who’ll happily dismiss you as a “rah cunt” even if you’re a Somalian refugee with a passion for Owen Jones.
Sometimes, Syndicate has a bouncy castle by the dance floor. No one knows why the people who run Syndicate think this is fun.
The crowd in Syndicate is the ugliest in Bristol by some distance. It’s a club haunted by a congregation dedicated to supercharged ugliness: ugly voices, ugly faces, ugly thoughts.
It’s difficult to overstate the towering importance of Motion to Bristol’s drug scene. Without it all the pill heads, mandy smashers and wavey garm wearers would be like the Kurds: a people without a nation.
If you’re not “on it” then you will only ever be very, very confused by Motion.
Every Thursday night, Pam Pam’s fills up with the worst people in Bristol – entitled, tedious, awful dickheads who sleepwalk through university until mummy or daddy sorts out that job for them.