Everyone you would’ve met at Fruity, if we weren’t in a global pandemic
Thanks to rona, our dear Freshers won’t be yeeting VKs this side of Christmas
With the pandemic still restricting us from getting groovy in our fave clubs, it seems likely that no one will be yeeting VKs anytime before Christmas. For anyone new to Leeds (or anyone who never had a social life pre-lockdown), Fruity Friday is the notorious club night situated in the Leeds Union. With paper tickets in the union and online tix selling out quicker than your delivery arriving from Pitza Cano, it was inevitable that the formally named ‘Leeds Uni Tickets’ Facebook group was bombarded with students selling and looking for entry to Leeds’ cheesiest night out each Friday.
But what types of people are we really missing out on meeting this year? Here’s everyone you would’ve met at Fruity if we weren’t bound to social distancing and a 10pm curfew this year:
If you’re a second year or older saying that you didn’t spend your whole first semester of freshers in Fruity, then you’re lying. I mean you may hate it, but how do freshers know where else to go when they’re first starting uni? There will always be a sea of freshers in the main room pit, who haven’t quite discovered the joys of Stylus or the smoking area yet. You would’ve been bound to see a fresher who’s had one too many VKs, and is having to get carried back to halls by their one sober flat mate.
That one person only here to pull
This person is at Fruity for the thrill of the pull. They missed out on pulling a cheerleader at Mischief on Wednesday, so has decided Fruity is the place to be on their quest. With its floors sticky with freshers’ feet, this person think it’ll be an easy feat to lock lips with a fresher, or, worse case scenario, that weirdo rocking back and forth in the corner with a can of Red Stripe. Either way; a pull is a pull. Trust us, Fruity is full of horny lads and ladies. What better place to find love then boogying to ‘We Found Love’ in Stylus?
Someone dressed as a chicken / prisoner / piece of fruit after an Otley run
Boy do we miss socials. Pre-lockdown, socials were the epitome of student social life. What’s more fun then fancy dress, bonding with people with similar interests, and discounted tickets and drinks? Fruity is the easiest place to go after such a rowdy event, so you’d undoubtedly meet a weirdo in a mario costume in smokers, who can barely string a sentence together but still thinks you want to shag him. But hey ho, Fruity with its 3 rooms and huuge crowds always proved difficult to find your missing mate so at least with them being in the same costume as you made it a little easier.
The girl who’s just here to enjoy the cheesy music
From Nicki Minaj’s Starships to Frozen’s Let it Go, there is no denying the fact you would witness at least one girl with her arms around her flatmates, screaming along to her favourite songs from the Top 40. Fruity is the one time a week where this girl (definitely an Emily or Molly) can convince her flat to stray from the grasp of house and D&B, and connect with all the other shameless cheese lovers out there who. This pop princess is absolutely revelling in the sweet sound of Taylor Swift and Rizzle Kicks. To be honest, you’re so jealous of how much fun she’s having on the dance floor that you never want to go to Beaver Works again, and you truly consider becoming a full-time member of her cheesy tribe.
Your mate who’s running out of money but still wants to party
For £5 a ticket and ridiculously cheap drinks (especially VKs) there was absolutely no excuse, no matter how far you into your overdraft you were, that you should not go to Fruity. Don’t see your mate out at pricey events or the pub? Don’t worry, you’ll see them seshing in Fruity. But sadly this year we will not witness our friends who are crawling in debt having fun to cringey music.
Indie music lovers and thespians
Who said that the global pandemic was all bad? Just like the cheesy music lovers, while we may not be seeing any theatre people or indie music fans at Fruity this semester, we certainly won’t be missing them. You were bound to see a member of Leeds’ Stage Music Society on the Fruity dance floor, as they notoriously spent every Friday night singing, at the top of their lungs, to every cringey song at Fruity. Meanwhile, the ‘indie room’ was always packed with those indie music fans who’d only discovered indie in their first week at uni, singing along to Fleetwood Mac and The Smiths. They just weren’t quite indie enough to go to Propaganda yet, so Fruity would have to do.
So, if this list of classic Fruity goers doesn’t make you feel nostalgic for the biggest night out in Fruity than god knows what will. Lets all hope that Fruity will be re-opening its doors next semester so we can get our fix of these insufferable characters.