Trent Ocean is incredibly underrated

The aim is to make a catch and the competition is fierce

While the sports squads of Uni of take over Rock City for their weekly piss-up, crawling across town towards the Broadmarsh Centre are the Trent Army in all their rowdy glory. Every Wednesday, without fail, the sports teams of Trent will don ridiculously impressive fancy dress to abide by a chosen theme of their team, and get absolutely rat-arsed among the masses in Ocean Nightclub.

The carnage commenced in a swanky self-catered flat of a first year burlesque student, which is the group I was out with for the evening. And the flat was a big improvement on the hovels that Broadgate have to offer, let me tell you. We had joined with Volleyball and our theme was Cave Girl. Throwing on what little leopard print I had, my friend and I set off for pres which started at the very premature time of 6.30 pm. Usually if I was heading to Crisis, I’d still be lining my stomach for the evening at this time, but Trent don’t fuck about. By 8pm, everyone is steadily merry, so we set off on the bar crawl across town.

First we head to Trent SU, which puts Mooch to shame, and it’s here where we congregate with the remainder of the sports teams. The top bar was a sweltering room full of builders, Dalmatians, carrier bags, jedis and a whole swarm of other characters. If there is one thing we should give Trent students credit for, it’s their attempt at fancy dress. The effort and exertion that had gone in to these outfits was impressive, and it’s safe to say I fell short of the mark in my leopard print shirt. After downing a double which only cost me £3.50, we walked in convoy to the next bar.

We made our way across town, stopping off at Red bar, The Bunker, Blah Blah Bar, and finally The Approach. By the time we reached Ocean at 11pm, everyone was well and truly trollied. This was a momentous milestone for me, as not only was it my first night at a Trent Ocean, it was my first night at Ocean full stop. Tonight, I was losing my Ocean virginity. I’d heard stories, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was going to experience.

Once in there, my friend and I went straight to the bar before the rush came, and downed some jäger bombs to prep us for the long night ahead. It was an overwhelming scene; the dancefloor was one gyrating mass of superheroes and runners and lads in tutus, and it was absolutely rammed. There was something thick in the air at Trent Ocean, which is usually not as imminent at our Crisis – and that is the expectation to pull. Within 40 mins of being on those carpeted floors, pretty much everyone was either getting low with another or necking on. It was pretty extraordinary, and it was clear the Trent army have got the game nailed.

The heat was too hot to handle, so I ventured out into the smoking area which was very sparsely populated. That is one thing I noticed about Trent nights out; no body smokes. In Crisis, you’re queuing to get a taste of sweet sweet nicotine, and every Tom , Dick and Harry is a social smoker, but that was not the case here. I was a minority, and it was weird but oddly refreshing at the same time. Unfortunately though, it meant I couldn’t sponge off anyone when I lost my baccy.

As the night progressed, I realised that Trent Ocean was more underrated than I initially thought. Everyone was sloshed together, having the time of their lives, and all sang in unison to the lovably shit songs. However by 2am, I’d sobered up quite substantially, so I headed home with my new Ocean experiences tucked nicely under my belt. Would I ride the Trent wave again? Probably.