Everything that happens on a last-minute Bull night out
Who doesn’t love those vodbulls?
It’s 6pm on a Friday. You’ve come home from your lectures, you’re debating a takeaway or whether to look in the freezer for that forgotten supermarket’s own curry. You might even have a look at your seminar work for Monday (who prepares that early?) when you get that infamous Messenger notification…“Bull?”
Your eyes glaze over the message for a moment, then you get that bubbling feeling, that burning desire for a cheeky £2 double vodbull (or ten). Thinking of that one 10am out of three that you got up this week, you go ‘Damn, I deserve this!!’.
Before you know it, you’re on Ticketarena searching for those elusive tickets. You debate scouring Facebook but can’t be bothered with the hassle.
You look at the time and realise you’ve got to get your arse ready; pres are now going to have to start at 9pm at the latest as you and the squad are queuing, and no one wants to be sober in that line.
Deciding what to wear is one of the largest tasks.
You pick out that little black dress and heels, or that smart white polo that you save for special occasions but it dawns on you. This is bull. All the VK flavours under the sun will be flying around to some T.Swift song, not forgetting the sticky carpets up in Pulse.
Settling on whatever is clean in your clothes pile on the bed, you make the trip to your nearest shop.
You’re finally ready for pres, the only problem is it’s 10pm and you’re setting off to Bull in T-30 minutes.
You attempt to down as much alcohol as you can manage without chundering. The smell of the tequila shots you’ve had is lingering but you’ve got this.
It’s showtime, you’ll do anything for the VK bar and belting out Not Nineteen Forever on the dance floor.
After a long wait in the queue you’ve made it, and are now feeling the glory of striding past the door staff with a wobble in your step.
Naturally, the group lose each other in minutes.
It wouldn’t be a night at Bull without losing at least one of your pals and finding them later on posing next to the bull with a group of newfound friends.
Before you know it, your head is more gone than when you’re doing assignments in the library but it’s SO WORTH IT!
Then comes the search for your mates…
Some are necking one of the two vodbulls they just bought.
One of them is in a daze a mere metre away.
Another is shuffling to One Dance on the dancefloor.
As a collective you decide it’s time for your well deserved kebab. You all gracefully tumble into your favourite takeaway with one of your pals probably screaming “I just want cheesy chips!”.
Sorrowfully, the night is over. You look back at Moka and whisper how special it is (Even though you wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole on any other day).