I thought The Big Cheese was a wine and cheese evening

There was no Stilton


I thought The Big Cheese would be a civilised occasion with bottles of Italy’s finest, and wheels of smelly French cheese for us to spread on Scottish oatcakes. 

It appears I’m a bit out of touch, especially for a second year.

A perfect night in © K. Camacho

A perfect night in © K. Camacho

Arriving at “pre’s” (it was already clear my classical education had failed me), I was informed I was “pre-drinking”.

So began, for want of a better word, my “initiation” into the Big Cheese faithful.

I was handed a Tab Condom, and told I was about to loose my “Big Cheese Virginity”.

The inside of the Fromage

The inside of the Fromage

I feared my quaint idea of a Wine and Cheese evening was done for, and at this point I envisioned some STI ridden rodent hole. It wasn’t far off, to be fair.

Undeterred by the nightmarish stories of Le Grand Fromage I entered the queue and soon with my wrist branded with “Dusty Moose” – explanation still required – I was allowed in.

It was quite obvious I was not nearly drunk enough to enjoy my surroundings, hence at the bar I enquired of the Wine list – still suffering from my illusion.

The barmaid, stifling her laughter, instead offered me a VK saying, “It’’s also made from fruit.”

I’m pretty sure she was taking the piss.

My Tab companions though soon got me into the swing of things, a few more drinks later it was becoming enjoyable.

Predator

Predator

But by this time the hordes had descended so we retreated to the back and people watched – we tried to rejoin the dance floor but were stuck to the benches with years of spilt alcohol and bodily fluids.

From what I can tell the Big Cheese consists of: sweaty first years, screaming, and gyrating to music that happened before even they were born, the occasional creep lurking to help his damsel in distress down those spiral stairs, and the utterly slaughtered person slumped in the corner – such fun!

The Rugger Buggers arrival made it into some David Attenbourgh-esque documentary, as they took on the Hockey Chaps for dominance of the disco-tech – beating their chests like unsatisfied gorillas. But with no stamina, their fight didn’t last for long.

Some people say The Big Cheese is a liberating experience, but I think I’ll just need therapy.