Every type of girl you meet in an Edinburgh club

Edinburgh nightlife has something for everyone but let's face it, it's a jungle out there.

Here's a comprehensive list of all of the girls you're likely to come across in Edi clubs to help you navigate your way around them with ease.

Please note: all stereotypes are entirely fictional and any similarity to real people is entirely incidental (probably).

The crier

Usually found in the girls' toilets, the crier is a guaranteed staple of a night out. It doesn't take much to set her off, she may have been given a compliment, she may have heard her favourite song, she may have just declared her love for the Potterow DJ. No one knows quite why this puddle of mascara is crying (herself included) but you can bet that there's no stopping her once the waterworks start and she'll be crying into her VK for the rest of the night.

The chunderer

There's always one who takes it one drink, or a Hive cocktail, too far in the club and finds herself in need for a tactical chun. Against all odds she re-appears after an indiscriminate amount of time in the toilet as if nothing has happened and gets back to it with a trip to the bar. You just have to hope that someone has a mint or some chewy for this girl as she's not going anywhere until she's seen the night through.

The aggy one

No one is safe from the wrath of the aggy girl in the club, often found in Why Not at its busiest times. Don't look at her, don't speak to her, don't breathe in her direction and you might get away unnoticed. Make the fatal error of contact with her and you're in for an elbow in the back or a kick in the shin.

For those who push past her, beware. At best you'll get a shove back and a dirty look, at worst a swilling and her friends piling in to hold her back and prevent your untimely death. Stay away from this girl, it's for your own good.

The 'smoker'

This girl may as well have not even come out because she doesn't want to actually spend any time in the club. She can be found in the Liquid Room's smoking area bopping from group to group, cadging cigarette after cigarette because she 'only smokes when she's drunk' and 'didn't have time to buy any before she came out'. The heaters around the seats and usually less busy bar outside means she's set for the night and feels that the £4 spent on entry wasn't a complete waste.

The dancer

One of the best types of girls in the club, the one who just wants to dance. She's the life and soul of the party, the girl that everyone wants to be friends with. The one that doesn't care what anyone thinks and dances like no-one's watching. She belts out every word of the RnB classics in Rascals with no shame. Every night out is better than the last because she avoids drama and gets lost in the music. This girl gets it, be more like this girl.

The wanderer

This girl is an enigma. You come to the club with her and you leave with her but there's no accounting for her whereabouts during the hours in between. As soon as you're in she excuses herself to go to the toilet and despite fruitless attempts to find her throughout the night, she only reappears for the last song with no explanation for where she has been. This girl is frequently found in Hive as its labyrinth of dancefloors, bars, and lack of mobile signal, simply facilitates the wanderer's wanderings.

The foodie

Back in the days when you could go to the 24-hour McDonald's on Princes Street to get post-club munch, this girl was in her element, confidently leading the group to the golden arches of hope after partying in the club until the lights came on.

With Pizza Paradise now the only place to get hot food after the clubs close, and this girl's outright refusal to pay £9 for a pizza, this girl now spends the last hour of the night begging her pals to leave with her to get food before 3am. She hates what she has become but she can't help it, she just wants food.

The woo girl

You can hear her before you see her. Often travelling as part of a group around the light-up dancefloor in Atik to get into a 'better position', her squeal signifies that she approves of the next song and her dancing is about to get serious. This girl dances the Macarena and Cha Cha Slide with gusto and gets annoyed when Whigfield's Saturday Night comes on and no-one else knows the proper dance moves. Fast-forward to the end of the night and her only means of communication is a series of croaky squawks after losing her voice but for her, it was all worth it.

The shots girl

A favourite in many Edinburgh clubs, the £1 shots attract one of the worst types of girls, the shots girl. Not content with just getting hammered herself, this girl spreads the toxic idea of shots to the whole group and leads them to the bar like the Pied Piper. Before they know it, they've been back to the bar for four rounds of shots after the first couple didn't have an effect and the shots hit them like a train. Watching the chaos that she has engineered, the shots girl, who can evidently handle herself better than the rest, carries on her night like nothing has happened and somehow manages to get her inebriated posse home safely.

The DMC-er

Often found in the seating area between the dancefloor and the bar, the DMC-er is constantly involved in intense emotional conversations with anyone and everyone that will listen. She's 'not just saying this because she's drunk' but she loves you, did you know that? She slurs her way through emotional monologue after emotional monologue and you just have to hope that she doesn't lock onto you and make you her next victim. If you dodge her for long enough, she'll venture to speak to Mary in the toilets instead for the fee of a £1 lollipop and you're free to carry on with your night.

The hot mess

Every girl group has a hot mess. If you don't know who it is, it's you. This girl starts of the night reasonably tame but things get messy as soon as she gets into the club. She somehow manages the behemoth Why Not Mondays queue and gets in with relatively little fuss but then makes the schoolgirl error of bee-lining to the bar to get started on her £1 tequila shots. £15 later and she's disappeared, not to be seen until the morning. If she's lucky enough to wake up with her phone, she sees a barrage of 'did you get home okay?' texts. If not, she'll wake up without her purse, phone, keys and ID and the taste of regret that only tequila can provide.

Photography credits: David Wilkinson and James Gourlay