I went to AU Night and I’ve never played sport

What really happens at AU? It’s the question those of us who used to settle for a “point for trying” on sports days are all dying to know. So, in the name of research, I borrowed a cheer kit, smothered myself in fake tan and went undercover.

If you don’t have a bow, you’re not a real Cheerleader

The first thing I learnt during this night of cutting-edge investigative journalism is that cheerleaders are wild, sassy and really enjoy Beyoncé. Their team chants are enough to make members of public on the 86 shrink away in horror. If there’s one thing that haunts your memory more than a particularly bad experience with gin, it’s the sound of “four, more, more, more” ringing in your ears. The stuff of dreams, the stuff of nightmares.

You can feed a girl vodka jelly babies, but you can’t feed her spatial awareness

After this eye-opening journey, we arrive at the Guild. It’s a kind of freshers throwback: people are stumbling down the stairs, queueing for drinks for centuries. But, as if the night could get any more terrifying, it seemed that the Mountford Hall was full of two types of people: cheerleaders and zoo animals. You quickly realise that you look identical to a hundred other girls — it’s like staring into a mirror maze. I was a little fish in a big pond, and that pond is lawless.

First class facepaint in the zebra enclosure

Somehow, three steps past the entrance, you come into contact with an inflatable crocodile. It’s not your typical night in Level.  Lost in a trippy, rainbow-coloured crowd of sports players, all chanting and wild, I am constantly aware of my outsider status. Many of the boys seem to have forgotten their T-shirts, their dignity, and probably their names.

Meanwhile, other teams went for a tamer but no less exotic look.

I make conversation with a few teams in the smoking area. They ask what team I play in — my cover is safe for now. But then Cheerleaders start to emerge, and they don’t recognise me. I take refuge inside, where a sea creature in swimming goggles recognises me from previous articles. Fearing my cover is blown, I escape into the laser beams and embrace the jungle.

Blending in with the locals

The rest of the night passes in a colourful blur. There are some mild arguments between teams about who has appropriated whose Smurf theme, but no physical fights break out over fancy dress. The notorious rivalry between Engineering rugby and ‘proper’ rugby also leaves us disappointed — who doesn’t want to see some conflict between ridiculously-dressed lads? They are all far too well-behaved.  This isn’t what I expected.

Rugby union, the Kings of AU, showing everyone how it’s done

Of course, as an outsider going to AU Night, your number one fear is the rugby lads. We’ve all heard the stories — you expect them to be loud and raucous, playing Soggy Biscuit and raising jäger bombs to toast The Patriarchy. But they’re actually kind, considerate and genuine boys, who are simply misunderstood by society.

They may look like they’re wearing some ancient warpaint, but it’s not actually animal blood they’re smothered in — just face paint. They’re actually top guys, and, according to one rugby lad, “not as bad as hockey”. You heard it here first.

Rugby league, in touch with their feminine side and dressed to impress

All in all, AU Night is definitely a must-see — a core part of the Liverpool experience, and not one for the faint-hearted. The sight of a grown man wearing hotpants and a Smurf hat, sitting on another’s shoulders will stay with me to the end. But is it worth joining a sports team for? In my view, probably not. People who play sport are just different to you and I. It’s best to leave them to it.