The definitive guide to what your halls say about you

Who is even in John Phillips?


Whatever hall you were sorted into basically determined what type of person you were going to be for the next three years of your life. You’re all perfect in your own individual way, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some ridiculous yet accurate stereotypes of all the different halls on and off campus.

Robert Bakewell

What’s better than a champagne breakfast before the summer ball boat party? Maybe a weekend away, skiing in the French Alps because you’ve had a long hard week of writing English/Psychology/Media essays and your perfectly manicured fingers are exhausted. Life in Bakewell is something that commoners from Cayley and Faraday will just never understand, or experience. Why are you so jealous of my King size bed and luxury en suite? Stop looking at me or I’ll have to go find my huge, first team rugby boyfriend.

If you need me, you can find me and my fellow Bakewell ballers relaxing in the quad- we’ll be the ones sipping Prosecco and munching on caviar. You act like you’re best friends with Sarah from Elvyn but secretly you hate that bitch. I mean, why are they catered when they have a kitchen just as big as yours? Get over yourself babe. Did I mention I have a boyfriend?

Rutherford

“Who are, who are, who are we!? We are, we are RED ARMY!” That’s right, you spent Freshers’ shouting that at every opposing hall during your first FND. Do you absolutely hate Cayley? Then you’re definitely a Rutherfordian.

You’re practically out every night. Your favourites are FND and Revs. You sleep on “The Green” after a wild night out because it’s still your home. You’ll happily take on the gruelling task of the notorious Whitworth Challenge. It gets your stomach churning, yet you still make sure everyone knows you’ve done it as you’re extremely competitive in everything and fight till the very end. No one stands in a Rutherfordian’s way. No one. Rutherfordians are all young, wild and free spirited and here to have a heck of a good time. They’re not as rough as Royce, not as posh as Elvyn, and definitely not as slutty as Cayley. They may seem a bit irrelevant but they’re one big happy family.

Faraday

You spend your days sitting at your window with your face pressed against the glass, gazing obsessively beyond the Purple Onion and Papa Si’s to the thing you hate most in the world: Royce. Even the name sends shivers down your spine and makes you want to punch yourself in the face. You can’t eat, sleep or even breathe without thinking about how much you fucking hate Royce. Every time you go to the canteen you can sense the enemy from beyond the double doors, and it totally puts you off your four different kinds of potato.

But who cares? Whatever. You definitely don’t care about Royce. No way. You’re too busy preparing for the most important event of the year: Hustings. You think Hustings are a joke? A bit of light hearted fun? Well think again my friend, because being on committee is the only reason we came to Looga.

*Queue thousands of painted neon orange faces strutting around campus*. What do you mean we have to do a degree as well?

Cayley

Warning: If you are reading from outside Cayley and have a boyfriend that lives there, then stop reading. Right now. Just stop. Not gonna listen to me? Suit yourself; prepare for hours of blood, sweat, tears and an eventual break up as you learn your boyfriend has cheated on you about 3467 times. But babe, it’s not his fault. He was just one of the many victims of the most vicious predator on campus: the Cayley vixen.

You will find this rare breed of girl standing in the dark corners of Echos, sipping on her double vodka coke, silently watching her prey. Waiting. Just waiting for the right moment to pounce – the moment when her chosen prey has had one too many Jägerbombs. The Cayley vixen is capable of stalking her prey for hours on end, and will not give up until she’s had her wicked way with you. Male students of Lufbra, you have been warned. Oh and if you do get it on with a Cayley vixen, be sure to get yourself checked out. Chlamydia isn’t trendy.

Royce

You’re a lad. A BNOC. Every night is a mad one. Frosty Jacks runs through your veins and your diet consists of 50 per cent dining hall potatoes and 50 per cent Papa Si’s. You’ve probably never been to breakfast. Or morning lectures. Or been awake before 12pm. You own about two gilets and three pairs of flip-flops that you’re probably still wearing, even though it’s February. You love sport. You probably study Sports Science and frequently squat in Powerbase.

You’re on the pull every night. You’ve named the black cat and worship St. Fred, despite not knowing what he’s supposed to be. Camo is your religious attire and you probably felt betrayed by this year’s choice of Fresher top. You’ve already blown your whole student loan on nights out, cheap cider and cheesy chips. You’re still getting wasted tonight.

The Holt

You’re all a bit forgotten about because you live so far away. You’re not particularly bad at anything, but you’re not particularly good. You’re the C of GCSE’s – average. There’s 261 of you, but everyone is yet to meet someone from The Holt. Are you at FND? No. Are you in Revs? No.

The greatest thing about you guys is that deep down everyone wishes they had been placed in The Holt because you’re smack bang next to Toby Carvery. That is the dream of any student – waking up, hanging out your arse and realising you can walk 100 metres to a freshly cooked roast dinner, all dripping in gravy for a fiver. You’re famous for your chapel-like building, and because we never see any of you it is knowledgeable to infer that The Holt is probably a nunnery.

John Phillips

Who are you? No one really know who you are, and to be honest, no one cares.

Hazlerigg-Rutland

Don’t let size fool you. Everyone knows everyone, and getting with a fellow Rigg-Rutter is practically incest. And everyone knows about it. Daddy could have afforded to put you in Elvyn, but you’re more independent and want to show the world that you can actually look after yourselves. Not that you guys do much of that. Pizzas and protein shakes cover your diet which keep you going between alcohol-fuelled romps to the union. Once inside, there’s no chance of getting lost, as you’re guaranteed to find someone you know in Rigg-Rutt corner before they took away the swanky, zebra sofas. Bastards.

But really, everyone’s usually laying down their best moves in Room 1, showing they’re the best around. But your dominance goes way beyond the union. Person for person you’re always up there with RAG, Action and IMS. But you have to earn your spot. Not just any student can make it through Daddies and Sons, after all.

Harry French

You secretly all wish you were in Bill Mo – your off campus rivals. But you’re a lot cooler. People who live in Harry French are the arty, younger brothers who have fashioned their hair into top knots and man buns, who decided that they’d rather spend their lives making comics than saving lives like their Medic, older sister Sally who went to Durham.

Because you guys aren’t on campus, you can get up to all kinds of things, that even by Lufbra’s standards are pretty weird like smoking tea leaves and putting Archers infused tampons up each others arses. You’re pretty much game for anything as long as it involves you getting intoxicated in one way or another. You’re the middle class Lufbrarians – Harry French isn’t the nicest hall, but it definitely isn’t the worst. Due to your middle status, you’re not bitter towards the posh lot, nor do you despise the students who live in the grotty halls, meaning that on average you’re pretty nice guys.

Towers

You guys just love yourselves, don’t you? Just because you’re the tallest hall doesn’t mean you’re the best, so why do you feel the need to blast out ‘House every weekend’ all day and all night? You’re like the wannabe cool kids in secondary school, but that doesn’t work at Lufbra because unless you play first team rugby, no one gives a shit.

You all absolutely love DBE. Even if you don’t right now, you will eventually. This also means you love shuffling, Adidas and Red Stripe, but then again, what student doesn’t? You’re the insurance kids who didn’t get the required grades to get into party universities like Nottingham, Leeds and Manchester, so you try your best to make Lufbra work. Towers may be a little bit lame, but you guys have one thing that no other hall does – an incredible view of our holy land. We all know this not only by common sense, but by how every person who has ever lived in Towers insists on uploading pictures of the view onto their Instagram. Yes, we know Luff has a rugby pitch. Congrats.

William Morris

It’s no surprise the Bill Mo mascot is a bulldog because you’re all filthy mutts. You’re the older sibling of your adoptive off-campus brother Harry French who you look down on in pity. Every person you meet you feel the  need to tell them that you guys won the sing-off for three consecutive years. No one cares. Because of your sing-off status, you believe you’re all the Kings and Queens of campus when in reality you’re completely irrelevant as you’re not in the village. You have one of the best common rooms, and with 478 of you living off campus, you all get up to some weird, incestuous late night activities.

You get involved with everything – Rag, IMS, Action, you name it, you’re there. You’re secretly the envy of everyone who isn’t in Bill Mo as before FND you have the ability to leg it to the queue, get the stamp that allows you access for another couple of hours, and then run back to Bill Mo to carry on pres, which only takes you five minutes because you live so close.

Butler Court

Butler Court is a strange hall because of how diverse it actually is. Mixing together Pro-athletes, Erasmus students and people who would actually opt for shared bedrooms are always going to make for a weird gang. It is one of the worst halls, but the committee make up for it by being the keenest on campus.

Their hall chairs become BNOCs before they even complete freshers, even though compared to the popular halls, they’re rather tame.  The athletes sadly bring the hall down, as the majority of them are so stuck up they should be in Elvyn because they’re so pretentious. We get it, you’ve won five gold medals representing Great Britain since you were 16 years old. Due to the shared bedroom aspect, you guys get really kinky. If both you and your roommate pull at Hey Ewe, the night will nearly always end in some sort of raunchy foursome. Sadly, you lose respect from every other hall because the only words you mutter throughout the entirety of Freshers are: “Butler til’ I die…fuck Towers.”

David Collet

You aren’t really famous for anything apart from supposed drug raids every few weeks.

Falkner Eggington

You’re not only the biggest hall here at Lufbra, but you are hands down the most revolting lot there is. You guys are up for anything, whether that be eating competitions or the ever famous Neknominate challenge, you’ll do it without question as your reputation will be on the line. Your patron saint is Aceman – your scruffy, toothless, saint who has set the way for your freshers as they all aim to follow in his footsteps.

The “egg” is fitting seeming you guys are so broke that’s all you can afford to eat. You spend all your money on Jägerbombs, condoms and Tesco everyday value shower gel in the hope you can really fit in with the rest of the hall when in reality none of them wash or shag anyway.

Telford

You’re the underclass of halls, without the Falk Egg swagger. You’re kind of like the chav at school that no one liked, instead of the class joker which everyone tolerated because they had a good sense of humour. You’re the second biggest hall and you made sure everyone during Freshers’ knew it by screaming in their faces some lame hall chant, reminiscent of some form of Viking, mating call. You all look, and smell, like someone off of Braveheart as six of you have to share a bathroom which in reality never gets used.

Because you’re self-catered, your kitchens smell like something has died in them, which is actually the smell of your tenth microwaved pasty this week. Even though the Telford freshers are some of the grottiest around, their committee attempt to ensure that their public image isn’t tarnished negatively. This is somehow problematic when your building is reminiscent of a Victorian asylum.

Elvyn Richards

You’re posh. Extremely posh. Double-barrelled surnames posh. You look down on the Made in Chelsea cast as your daddy had some business troubles with Spencer Matthews parents, meaning that you couldn’t go to Marbella that year. Absolutely devastating. You’re a walking advert for Jack Wills and Abercrombie combined as you live in gillets and posh tracksuit bottoms – not those sports-style rip offs that all the other peasants wear. Yuck. You know half the people in the hall as you went to boarding school with them in Surrey and you all planned to stick together as you didn’t want to be stuck with anyone who didn’t own a chalet in France. You all study pointless degrees like Fine Art and Psychology as you’re bound to secure a job at your uncle’s accountancy firm once you finish uni. You really struggle being so far away from your manicurist as the student life in really ruining your cuticles.