The five types of people you’ll find on Clifton & Stoke Bishop tickets
‘Is this still available??’
Once upon a time there was no Clifton and Stoke Bishop tickets. It was a dark time, a lesser time, a time when unloved and unwanted tickets went unused and sesh-crazed students missed out on 'legendary' nights out, all for the lack of a measly barcode.
Thankfully, those days are long gone. Since its launch, the much loved Facebook group has become something of a Bristol institution. Yet for all the variety of names and faces, certain types are invariably prevalent amongst the 22,000 students and locals.
Behold the five types of people you'll find on Clifton and Stoke Bishop tickets- which one are you?
Underpinning the thriving second hand ticket industry is that bedrock of disorganised panic riddled FOMO frenzy known as 'The Mess'. They're the Ketflix and Pills tagger who wakes up midday on top of last night's mistake, missing early bird tickets and thereafter never having the money for second, third or fourth release. The day of the night they'll post desperate messages following £££ from Daddy's standing order. Shock horror they'll often mess up and buy two by mistake.
They love the sesh and feel physically pained if they miss their weekly dose of big beats or Little Mix; they'll swig back Red Stripe by the imperial gallon before chundering it all up five hours later, then stagger home, oversleep, miss ticket sales and repeat the whole Brechitan nightmare till they graduate with a low 2:1 and a worrying ket addiction.
Most likely to say: "Looking for a Run/Bicep/Score ticket pls pls pls"
We all know this one. Flakier than a 99, this guy bails quicker than a white collar criminal on tax evasion charges. They're the member of the squad who always says they'll come but last minute pulls out that classic triple combo of 'too much work/on a comedown/have a gr8 time tho!!' You always make sure to include them in your plans but over time their clockwork 9pm postings in the group have all the monotonous dependability of bathroom mould.
At first their FB postings attracted sympathetic 'cry reacts only' comments, now they just get snake gifs and the word 'Poor'. They'll start off bidding at a ludicrously high price, begrudgingly knocking it down a quid when they realise everyone who actually wanted one bought theirs a week ago. Their time honoured tradition of bailing means they're an efficient seller, dispatching over the ticket within 20 seconds of payment before retiring immediately to bed to watch Louis Theroux alone.
Most likely to say: "Selling a ticket, again"
We all know a legend like this. They're the guy who, rain or shine, will always be there to joyfully comment "fake seller" beneath your post within 10 seconds. They're the girl who, days after you've deposited a long expired ticket, asks breathlessly "Is this still available????", falling with joy on this "absolutely jks" opportunity with the frenzy of a sharking rower on a gazeboed fresher.
Other 'legendary' antics include commenting the Mean Girls Karen coughing gif (if they're a girl) or just a simple picture of a Cadbury flake (if they're a guy). Always loud, always annoying, they'll always be sitting on Clifton & Stoke Bishop tickets, watching, waiting for more 'craic' whenever they're not in the ASS shouting about how they were soooo wasted/in there/pinging off their nut last Bunker Monday/Sports Night/Cirque.
Most likely to say: "Do you have any other pictures??"
They don't know why they're on this Facebook group and frankly, neither do you. They never go out, they never buy a ticket, they don't live in Clifton and they weren't ever in Stoke Bishop (shock horror). They got added once in freshers after they found a provisional drivers licence on the Triangle and good soul that they are, posted it in the group for Cecilia to come and collect.
Nowadays they use it for living vicariously, perusing as their friends spam-message for ticket after ticket. They'll post once or twice, usually with a hint of desperation at the prospect of having to find a replacement for a dropout housemate.
Most likely to say: "House of eight lads, looking for just one more!"
The pantomime villain of C&SB tickets, this loathable lout will pop up once, comment "Messaged" then silently sink back into the fogs of time from which they emerged. They'll take your money, you'll learn a lesson and a time honoured tradition will have been duly repeated.
Most likely to say: Nothing, because they've already been banned