After too many rubbish nights out, it’s finally hit me: I hate clubbing

I’d rather stay home with a cup of tea

I hate clubbing. Now you know that, you’ve judged me already, haven’t you? I’ve had too many shit nights out by now to know it’s never worth going in the first place. Once you’ve been on one, you’ve been out for all of them. Don’t believe me? Let me walk you through every rubbish night out you’ll have this year.


On a typical night out clubbing, my friends are already an hour into their pres by now. I don’t drink so I’m sitting at the table with them playing “never have I ever” in my joggers and slippers with a massive mug of tea.

Rockin' the jeans and cardigan "I-don't-give-a-shit" look. I cropped my friends out this, I DIDN'T GO ALONE OK!

Rockin’ the jeans and cardigan ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ look. Dw I don’t go clubbing alone, I just cropped my friends out of this


They’re all starting to think about getting ready to go out. By this time I’m already in my dressing gown half-sleeping. I don’t wear make-up, I rarely dress up and I don’t own a pair of heels so it takes me literally five minutes to get ready. I spend the rest of the two hours that my friends take to get ready thinking of excuses as to why I won’t be going out. There’s only so many times you can say your cat is ill (I don’t even have a cat) before people realise you’re a complete bullshitter.


We’re FINALLY out the door, everyone is already steaming and confessing their undying love for one another. Why is it so bloody cold outside? I do not care for this.


We finally get to the club and, after having missed the 12am deadline to get a discount, we all have to fork out an extra fiver to get in. Fuck. That.


We check in our coats (£2.50 to hang up a jacket?! I’d rather bloody freeze) and head to the bar for a drink. The look you get when you ask for water is enough to make you not want to go back.

Just water for me please

Just water for me please


I join my friends on the dancefloor and cut some shapes. Dancing like an idiot is probably the only half-decent thing about going clubbing.


I’ve already been approached by some guy trying to grind me. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME MAN. This is my absolute worst nightmare. Being a serial monogamist I’ve never been into the whole one night stand thing.  It’s way too loud in clubs to actually talk and everything is misheard so I’ve got some guy calling me Linda and asking me what part of Ireland I’m from (P.S. I’m Scottish).


Creepy grinding guy can’t take a hint and has summoned his friends over to talk to the rest of us. Guys seem SO much creepier when you’re completely sober.


I’ve had about as much conversation as I can get out of anyone and coax my friends into a booth. Comfort at last yaaay.


Some Indian guy twice my age pulls me out of my seat and gets me to dance. He tells me his name is Dr. Jeet. Usually my flirting would kick in a bit and I’d go for the “can the doctor see me now” patter but this isn’t a date and you’re probably my dad’s age. Soz bye.

1am – 2:40am

Watching my friends pull some worse-than-average guys makes me thankful for my rare single status.

Bored af pondering the meaning of life while thinking about how my bed and chocolate are a much better alternative. There’s some sporadic “dancing” and belting out tunes in there too obvs.


Finally a bit of drama – one of my friends has apparently been spiked. I always have to come to the rescue in these situations, being the designated mum of the group. No babe you haven’t been spiked, if you don’t throw up after 2 bottles of Buckfast then you’d probably be considered a God in some religions.

This isn't fun to watch if you're sober

This isn’t fun to watch if you’re sober


Met one of the guys from earlier – he approaches me with the enthusiasm you can only expect from a woman being reunited with her high-school best friend after 20 years. Still calling me Linda (he’s too drunk to give a fuck) he wants to “walk me back to my flat”. No you’re okay love. I have legs, I can walk myself.


We stumble into McDonald’s. FINALLY I CAN GET SOME TEA (you think I’m joking).


My friends decide to make a human pyramid in the middle of the street. Being the responsible sober one I shouldn’t welcome this but I can’t help but want to make an arse of myself. Being the lightest person there I get nominated to kneel at the top. Inevitably I fall off and hurt my chin on the ground. URGH GET ME HOME HOW.


Oh sweet bed where have you been all my life? I swear I’ll never leave you again. You and I together forever.



9am: The morning after…

Everyone is feeling the effects of last night’s antics. Some of them are just walking through the door sporting the “walk of shame” hair, still in last night’s dress and clutching their heels.

All I can think is how I’ve gained absolutely nothing from my night out but lost out on so many hours of valuable sleep, Friends-watching and tea-drinking time. My bank account balance has depleted way too much and I have absolutely nothing to show for it but this bruise on my chin. It seems to me like my friends haven’t gained much either apart from a pounding headache and maybe another notch on their bedpost.

Next time I think I’d rather just stay in my flat and play Monopoly. Not even a euphemism: LITERAL FUCKING MONOPOLY.