Mosaic is an embarrassment to EX4

If you love to mingle with the Exetah stereotype, consider yourself high up the EX4 social ladder and get wet over the thought of VKs, then you’re probably a Moz regular. You live or used to live in Holland/Penny C, or else you’re one of the brave folk from Birks.

After being asked enough times by my Moz-loving peers why I hadn’t developed such a loyal dedication, I dragged my real friends to Monday Moz to see what the hype was all about. As a Holland Hall resident myself, it may seem surprising to hear such diatribe of a place so sacred to those around me. The phrase ‘don’t shit where you eat’ comes to mind.

Moz by night, overpriced catered accommodation by day

But really, Moz is the worst night out in Exeter. Granted, BNOCs and friends of can waltz in via the guestlist, but, for those who don’t like to social climb, the night is bleak. If it wasn’t bad enough to be smashed for what seems like hours merely to get inside, you find yourself in yet another queue to get to the oh-so–exclusive Top Floor. Double queuing?! In Devon?!

But if I’m going to double queue for anything I expect the result to be worth my time. White boys throwing gang signs and fake friends posing for photos with their VKs, definitely isn’t. The abundance of girls in black clothes gives it more of a funeral after party vibe, and the boys who wear gilet’s may as well have ‘I’m a cunt’ written on their foreheads. Buy a crate of VKs and become God.

Enough said

It’s not like one can take refuge with a nice cigarette break either, my one experience in the X-small smoking area made me curse myself for being a smoker and reminisce of better times at Unit 1. I think I’d rather spend a night in bed reading Magna Carta than give up hours to headache-inducing house music and white girl wasted tunes. I dread to think what’s on the sleep playlists of the Moz regulars.

But what I do know is that my post-Moz night’s sleep was one I looked forward to most for a long time. A club that reinforces social hierarchies and panders to the tastes of ex-public school wankers, you’d find a more interesting bunch in Steve Smith’s office.