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Freshers’ Week in first year versus third year: the key differences

You can guess who’s going to the naff Icebreaker event

That infamous mid-September week is here, along with a bunch of fresh-faced 18 year olds that have secured the grades to get them into one of the Liverpool universities. It's time to delegate your latest pair of sesh shoes, beg your mum to buy you some spirits in Tesco and wave goodbye to your grandparents. You leave your pets behind, swapping them out for your flatmates and a helpful guy on the 699 who'll hold your hair back when you're sick (thank you Josh…or was it John?). However, how this week pans out otherwise is mainly down to whether you're a newbie or Liverpool veteran, so here are the key differences involved.

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We'd be ashamed to be in an empty Level too

First year – you'll buy a shit wristband to cover your week

You've hesitantly joined a Crown Place and History group chat, and now FOMO starts to hit before you've even left your house. Everyone chirps on about the wristbands they've already purchased, thus meaning you've had to splash the cash, only to spend your week in the Krazyhouse wondering where that giant bouncy castle really is? Somehow you're now pining for results night in your grotty hometown club with a Love Island reject again.

Third year – you'll only select the good events

You'd probably be laughed out of Smithdown if you bought one of these wristbands now – your calendar is filled with much better events, knowing that a night in Juicy, an event in the Baltic Triangle and a boogie down Bongo's Bingo is worth the money from your shitty bar job over summer.

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The only wristband you really need

First year – you'll end up shagging your flatmate

When your parents dropped you off at Melville Grove, there was a huge sigh of relief, as none of your flatmates are as hot as the school sweetheart you dumped (Exeter's just too far away, sorry babe). However, after a few rounds of squadka, you can't help but lust over your roomie in his mum-bought attire and penchant to be a BNOC already, so you end up sleeping together on night four. This just gets a bit awkward when by November, he's dating a girl on his course and you have to encounter them canoodling in the kitchen everyday. Let's leave her blissfully unaware…

Third year – you'll know your flatmates are too gross to shag

The same things that would've endeared you when you were a teenager and desperate to add to your shag tally just make you feel a bit queasy – after seeing the horrific concoctions they call "meals" and their disgusting bedroom, which is definitely the reason you have a rat infestation, the last thing on your mind is getting into bed with them. Having their passive aggressive messages as the floor shakes following your Tinder date is a far better option to choose.

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We don't need strangers to have a good time

First year – you'll take part in a pres with your entire block

Is it really necessary to attempt to play ring of fire with 30 people? Absolutely not. Will it still happen? Absolutely yes. Will you feel incredibly uncomfortable when you're opposite them in The Guild after you've sobbed all night in their bedroom? See previous answer.

Third year – pres will only be with your besties

The thought of having to attempt conversation with more than five people is as sickening as the thought of your third year of quadvods. At least if you drunkenly spill secrets this time round, you won't be met with a round of disgusted faces – we already guessed you had sex in the Heebies toilets, Danielle.

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All anticipating finally getting some jagerbombs

First year – you'll fall for what your 'friends' tell you

Jokes on you for believing the girl on the floor below who claimed you definitely don't need to reach the club before midnight; you're now shivering and sobering up in the queue, wondering why you listened to someone who only knows from their sister who goes Lancaster, which is nothing like Liverpool.

Third year – your friends will be smart enough to follow (or you're smart enough to ignore them)

Your Raz timings are better than your timing to get to a 9am, and you'll just go ahead and book the Uber even if your mates insist otherwise – it's not like they need that extra gin and lemonade, you know them well enough that they'll spend all their student loan on rounds anyway.

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No need to prove ourselves, we're already best friends

First year – trying to prove yourself in front of new people

Seriously, there's no need to pretend to be someone you're not. Just because you haven't smoked weed or been to Boomtown doesn't mean you're uncool. If people don't accept you for who you are, you'll find better mates along the line.

Third year – having nothing to prove, but still getting completely fucked anyway

Thankfully, your mates are aware that you live in a massive mansion in Dorset, but let you be known more for being the biggest sesh-head, which is what getting a degree is really about anyway. This is what secures third year freshers week as better than first year; it's our last chance to be a liability, and boy will we embrace it.