Minesweeping is a skill, and it should be practised

Sorry mum

Not having enough money for a night out – the definition of a first world problem. Not having even a few pennies for a dirty flagon of Frosty Jack’s then getting kicked out of a club you don’t like anyway is the epitome of first world privilege.

So when your earnest response to the homeless guy outside Tesco when he asks for cash is: “Mate I literally don’t have anything” then what can you do? Well you can always look around the house for booze. There’s a solid chance you can uncover something, however half a bottle of Hooch that someone brought back from the SU with them last weekend probably isn’t going to cut it.


Assuming that’s the case and you literally can’t conjure up a few quid for some should-probably-be-illegal corner shop spirits then, if your flatmates can’t help you out, there’s only one option. Minesweeping.

Minesweeping as a name sounds a lot more shady than it actually is. Like it would be used in a tabloid scare story about people going around clubs spiking drinks with date rape drugs or the name of a new and stupid viral stunt involving deodorant cans and lighters (which actually sounds quite funny).

But no, it refers to going around busy clubs and bars, skilfully acquiring drinks that you have not paid for yourself. Basically the kind of thing that your mum wouldn’t speak to you for for several weeks if she ever saw you doing it. Mind you, if you’re minesweeping in the presence of family members, the fuck are you doing? They’ll be getting you drinks anyway.

Descending into depravity

One of my flatmates has it down to a tee. I’ve keenly observed and the trick is no hesitation, one smooth movement, hence the “sweep”. If you hear someone shout, don’t pussy out, merge onto the dance floor and there’s a solid chance that that half a glass of vodka and coke is yours for the keeping. Result.

Top tip right here: the best places are always on the way out to the smoking area. Drinks can’t be taken outside in case, I dunno, you throw your can of Red Stripe at some innocent passerby who isn’t off their face at three in the morning on a Wednesday. But herein lies the true majesty of the minesweeper.

It is an egalitarian system. The times when I can afford a drink I perfectly expect to be mineswept myself. In which case I’ll just sweep myself another one. This way we all sort each other out and everyone gets a drink, it’s basically socialist clubbing. Yep, I can see absolutely no logical or moral inconsistencies in this argument whatsoever.

The other problem is accumulating enough drinks to actually get pissed, if you’re in the scenario described earlier where you’re completely incapable of acquiring any pre-drinks. This is where you have to choose you’re destination wisely. At a decent rave this is difficult, everyones probably in the same financial boat as you plus class A intake often overtakes people’s interest in buying drinks, which means none for you, the selfish cunts.


So you need somewhere where the drinks are freely flowing along with a smoking area that doesn’t allow for drinks. Cardiff residents already know where I’m talking about. Yes, Live Lounge. There’s a whole table perpetually covered in booze by the doors and drinks are criminally cheap anyway so literally no one cares. I remember one of my friends approaching me laughing as I’m looking over the dance floor from the balcony sipping on a monster jug of rum and coke, when I’d been unable to pay for a Mcdonalds earlier in the evening.

So yeah, sorry mum, sometimes you’ve got to do what’s got to be done to live this lifestyle and that may sporadically involve degrading yourself. Never mind the threat of catching an illness or getting battered by an angry rugby twat whose pint is now half down your t-shirt, you’re gonna get pissed no matter the circumstances.