The stereotypes you meet at every club in Liverpool
We’re at Heebies because we miss the old Juicy
The nightlife in Liverpool is second to none; we are the unofficial party capital of the North. But, despite the choice and despite the fact there are literally 35,000 students here, where ever you go, you already know exactly the type of person you’re going to bump into.
Ram-packed full of freshers every single night that it’s open. If you call in on a Wednesday you’ll be lucky enough to find the sports teams too. Basically, everyone in Level absolutely loves the social and loves a sesh. The two combined mean they feel absolutely at home in Liverpool’s most unnecessarily large club. People who frequent Level have arrived early to meet Gaz from Geordie Shore or the guy from Tattoo Fixers who all of a sudden is doing PAs – this is bizarre right? Girls tend to wear heels but definitely carry them home while drunk texting their ex: “Tom i jist miss yjou sooooo mjuch. Plese can i come over i’m on my way alredyy xxx”. They stumble home the next morning crying to their housemate wondering WHY they did it for the third week in a row.
Takeaway of choice: six chicken nuggets and chips, tomato sauce in the lid.
If you’re at Juicy in The Merchant, you’re a fresher and you have no idea what you’re missing. Old juicy was full of the type of people who stick bump n grind on at every single pre-drinks they’ve ever been at, they lock eyes with their target during the “I don’t see nothing wroooooong” bit. Old Juicy-ers never cared that it was the most expensive night of the week and would often skip dinner that day in an effort to not only save money but to not line their stomachs before pres. People who go to Juicy know their 2pm deadlines on Friday are an absolute myth. They will never be and have never been met, but it’s fine. Uni is about more than your 2:1. You’ll see people are their very glammest at Juicy, it was never a particularly glam club but there’s something about a Drake mega mix that just makes everything a lil bit sexier.
Takeaway of choice: cheesy chips, large, obvs.
Students at Kitchen Street went to private schools but they don’t want you to know. They had never dabbled with drugs but now they’re practically dealers and you don’t know when you last saw them not on a comedown in a Monday 9am. They look like they’ve just walked out of the Resurrection changing rooms, rocking only the grungiest Adidas jackets and Nike caps. They aren’t into grime but because they can do a verse and chorus of ‘Shutdown’ they think they are as North London as possible – they’re from Berkshire. They go home and do NoS until 7am, then tweet about how sick the chats at the after party were. Their friends from home don’t feel like they know them any more – it’s all quite emotional.
Takeaway: No takeaway, the gurn is real. Just a bottle of water.
The vast majority of people in Heebies on a Thursday are there to cope with Juicy moving and get their R n B fix. But unless you go early you don’t care about the music – it’s all about the social area. Most people in that cute quad don’t smoke but it’s got that really nice outside-but-feels-like-inside vibe. People who go to Heebies only wear flat shoes, maybe boots if it’s a special occasion. The stairs in that place are lethal, it’s not worth risking a slip if you can avoid. You can’t go without bumping in to your mates from Carnatic. Screams of “OH MY GOOOOD IT’S BECKY FROM LADY MOUNTFORD” echo across the bar. You always take a classic pic in the girls toilets.
Takeaway: cheesy chips and gravy. You’re so Northern.
People who go to The Raz go religiously, and subsequently spend every Tuesday hating themselves. Seasoned Raz goers laugh at well-dressed freshers while wading through everyone’s least favourite-favourite club in their trusty Raz shoes. Speaking of freshers, if you’re a fresher you probably think it’s the best place on the planet. People who love The Raz live for a fat frog and a sweaty snog, and they always pull. They usually regret it, but they ALWAYS pull.
Takeaway: kebab. Hot and sticky, and you’re not really sure where it came from. Much like the stranger in your bed on Tuesday morning.
This is the person who has too much fun at pre drinks and demands you don’t leave until one am, by the time you get to town it’s late to get in the club. They love a sunny sherbet from Soho and are on first name terms with all the jäger girls. They never buy the jäger though, there’s always a bit of a weird encounter. They definitely have at least one key ring with a picture of the gang on, it’s chipped and scratched but the memories are intact. These people LOVE shisha. But, there is always one who constantly reminds everyone that it’s worse than cigarettes: “Do one Emily will you? No one wanted you to come anyway.”
Takeaway: chips and curry sauce. Every time.
Faculty is almost always full of third years. If you’re still going in third year, you’ve ALWAYS been going. Always. You first found it when Juicy shut their queue at approximately 11:01, necked a Quad Vod and never looked back. The nights that end up in Faculty are always the ones that started as “let’s just go for one or two?” but end at 2:30am in the pizza place next door. Almost everyone inside is wearing jeans and a nice top.
Takeaway: pizza, of course.