The 10 Commandments of Sugarhouse

Basically, thou shalt not be a prick

In the beginning there was the word, and the word was Sugar, and then the next word was taxi. We all love spending the Sabbath hungover, but there are those that make our Lancaster Saturdays hell.

To those sinners I present the 10 Sugarhouse commandments, so that they might cleanse their drunken souls.

Thou shalt join in on Sugarbus games and chants

If you don’t join in, I’m not even sure where your loyalties are. It’s disrespect to your college, your university and those that chanted on the same bus before you, since ’64. Are you not drunk? Are you not Lancastrian? Who are you? Why are you scared to embarrass yourself? You’ll be drunk crying in the unisex toilets an hour from now anyway.


Maybe, I’ll just grab a drink later…

Thou shalt have thine shit ready at the front of the bar/entrance queue

We’ve all missed our favourite song at some point, waiting for skinny jeans to prise their Purple card and £3 from their uncompromising denim pocket, having to awkwardly fist pump while second in the queue and sobering up. Don’t be that person, the bar staff will probably spit in your drink.

Thou shalt not barge

A cricket social tie or netball sexy cat face paint is not a badge of prestige. You sporadically hop between the tiny air pockets of dancefloor space to get from A to B(ar) just like everyone else. No-one wants to feel like they’re moshing on the dancefloor when Ignition by R. Kelly is playing.


Pretty sure someone just grabbed my bum

Thou shalt not creep on thine fellow clubber  

Take it easy my man, that tush is not yours for squeezing.

Thou shalt attempt to enjoy all music played

I know you wore your fresh Adidas Superstars just for tonight because you were expecting filthy bass. I know you have, yet again, been let down by the sirens call of Mr Brightside, but nobody likes a wet blanket. Just drink until it all sounds like white noise, because moping around the dancefloor is fucking up the club’s feng shui.

Time to take a breather... of carbon monoxide.

Time to take a breather… of carbon monoxide

Thou shalt share thine fags in the smoking area

A cigarette can save a night: don’t like the song playing? Go for a fag. Don’t like the people from your course who you’ve bumped into and are now, for some reason, trying to have a chat with you over the thumping music? Go for a fag.

But when you are without, it can be a bad time. Don’t let your fellow human stand in the light rain trying to get a buzz of second hand exhalation, sharing is caring.

Thou shalt not give dirty looks to strangers in the toilet

Why you have all congregated here where it smells like piss, I’m not sure. I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation by coming in here to actually utilise the bathroom’s facilities but I will not, and neither should anyone else, stand for being looked at as though I have actually shat on the floor.

Thou shalt use the stage for dancing

The stage at the back of the main room is arguably the best place to dance in Sugar: a nice view of the DJ, close to the bar, it’s a special platform to boogie. It’s not a game of how many awkwardly swaying teens can you fit on an elevated space. Stop pushing dancers off the edge because you want to feel like the king of the castle Napoleon, and actually dance.


Gentle giants, really.

If the bouncers doth come for thee, go with them

If you’re forcefully trying to get a piggy-back off a stranger, it’s probably time for that homeward bound kebab. Trying to run, stumbling away from the boys in fluorescent green never works, and will likely get yourself into a WWE-style choke hold and a ban for the term.

Thou shalt do it all again next week

Because where else are we really going to go?