Mosaic: Where integrity goes to die

Some of us have been lucky enough to avoid Mosaic for the majority of our uni career. Complete with “edgy kids” and sticky dancefloors, it’s hard to understand why some of the student population insist on religiously attending once (and sometimes even twice) a week.

As soon as you step in the door, you can tell you’re in for a long night of disbelief and confusion.

What type of club makes you pay entry to a man sitting in a disabled toilet? And why the fuck is the cloakroom part of the kitchen?

While Mosaic doesn’t have a real cloakroom or front desk, it seems they also can’t even afford a raffle ticket book, as cloakroom tickets sometimes consist of a messy number (often illegible) scribbled onto a scrap of paper.

“Oh well”, you may think, “maybe just the bottom floor is a shambles.”

Unfortunately you would be wrong.

Remember this?

Since when was it right for a club to make you pay for entry and then expect you to queue to have access to the main room? The queue is sometimes so large you could be squeezed between a wall and a heavily bearded man, an experience some of us are still struggling to recover from.

As you’re slowly pressed, music is pounding from the DJ booth. A few choice tunes can be a welcome comfort when the queue is more civil, but it’s more like the soundtrack to a low budget horror film when the inevitable push ensues.

You may quickly come to realise there are many more things you would rather be doing with your time, like being dragged backwards down an escalator by your hair or wrestling a kangaroo.

‘Having fun in Mosaic’

If you’re lucky, you’ll manage to find your way to the top floor…only to be confronted by a room of people whose only purpose in life seemed to be to reach optimum levels of “edgy” and “hipster” – this club truly is the Dante’s Inferno of Exeter’s clubbing scene.

We advise you hastily make your way to the bar and quickly sink three shots, then desperately pray it will help you to see the fun side of the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.  Looking across the bar at your fellow clubbers, you’ll most likely see some idiot buying a crate of VKs.

No matter how hard you try to enjoy yourself, it will probably dawn on you these are truly not your people.

If possible, we advise you seek refuge in the DJ booth and hide under the pile of coats which usually builds up there.

If you’re contemplating going to Mosaic, don’t, unless you’re a regular attendee. If so, then please do, so the sane people don’t have to deal with you in the normal clubs.