A Night With Leeds’ Biggest Lads
We got fucked up with 6StMikes and this is what happened.
Never ones to shy away from real, hard-hitting issues, The Tab felt the need to get hands-on with the 6StMikes way of life, so I decided to get in touch with them via twitter. Naturally they were having a party the following day which they invited me to. Unsure of exactly what to expect (although I had an inkling…) I followed up via phone for more details.With such clear instructions, I convinced Tab photographer Jack Cummings to accompany me and we were on our way.
Before leaving I decided to check their twitter one last time. Considering my familiarity with what they usually post (dicks), I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Maybe I thought I’d find out when games like pass the parcel were scheduled or what flavour crisps would be served.
Instead I found a picture of naked dude. Apparently he was ‘dressed up’ for the party.
Undeterred, my beverage of choice for the night was a ‘family’ sized bottle of White Ace, purchased on the recommendation of Sanjeet. He was the bloke behind the counter and promised me it was a laddy drink (he didn’t want to be photographed.)
Armed with what I considered to be my passport to the Republic of Lad, we set off.
My three litres and I were met by Nick, who manages the house’s twitter account. He seemed very glad I’d turned up, welcoming me into the party and proceeding to introduce me to a sea of names & faces. It felt like freshers’ week except this time I didn’t feel guilty about forgetting names.
We were given a guided tour of the house, being shown sparse bedroom after sparse bedroom. I made the same “I bet a lot of shagging goes on in here” statement when presented with each one. I figured this would help me fit in and allow me to be accepted – it being literally a matter of survival that I was accepted.
After the tour we ran into this fella. Recognise him? It’s naked man! The one from twitter! I can’t say if it was our presence that had caused him to make such an effort as to actually be wearing clothes, but I’d like to think we played a part.
Upon opening another door, we found a group of girls. Whether this was to shelter themselves from the banterous romp of the lads we weren’t sure, but I figured this would be the perfect time to get their perspective on the lad lifestyle.
Critics of lad culture often castigate such a lifestyle choice because of its views towards women. Cries of treating them merely as objects and viewing them as if they were of another species are oft-used motifs in such rhetoric. I put this account to one of the girls, aiming to gain a personal perspective as to what many would label a ‘victim’ of this scene…
I’d like to say I was treated like a guest of honour, and thinking back, this is probably the style of hospitality 6StMikes were going for. However, it felt more like I was a novel attraction or toy; like I was their 16 year-old brother who’d come to visit them at uni for the first time.
Sometime during the night the 6StMikes twitter account hit 600 followers. This (like everything else) was a cause for celebration, and I was somehow credited for helping them on their quest for domination of the twittosphere.
Now I don’t know if you’ve ever found yourself being forced to down a can of Carling in a house full of strangers who spend most of their time posting pictures of each other’s dicks on the internet, but the thought process can be summarised as follows:
- I hope I look cool doing this
- I think that’s half the can gone
- Stop pouring so fast, most of it’s going on your face
- Okay it’s soaking into your Tshirt
- Now surely half the can’s gone
- I don’t look cool doing this
- I need to breathe
- But I need to be a lad
It’s at this point where one must choose between ‘breath or dishonour’, and I believe this decision comes deep from your unconscious mind, perhaps it’s even wired into your genetic makeup.
Jack went and took some more snaps while I relished in my achievements. The lads were, of course, still boozing. The one on the right’s even wearing my coat. But it’s cool, I’m one of them ‘cus I drank beer faster than is considered comfortable.
The party was taking a pretty standard form for a busy house party: a packed dancefloor, drinking games in the kitchen, a more quiet vibe outside…
Upon waking me, Jack and I decided to take our leave, and on the walk back home I reflected on the experience.
6StMikes had taken me into their home and given me their beer, their birds and their banter. What’s more, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have fun.
This train of thought sparked a brief moment where I realised I should go back to the party with no motive but to enjoy and indulge myself; embrace all the antics and the inevitable vomit that accompanies it. I mean, isn’t that what unay’s about after all?
Still, I had a 10am seminar the next day which I’d done the reading for. I couldn’t be missing that.
Know of a night or subculture we should review? email [email protected]
This article was originally published in The Tab Leeds.