The seven deadly sins of Crisis (that we miss so dearly)
It’s been the longest eight months without you
We’ve been out of the game for a while, and since we’re all missing the best night out in Notts, there’s no harm in reminiscing. We can all agree that Crisis has brought out the best in all of us, but also, without argument, the worst – it’s named appropriately. These are the seven deadly sins of the night that we miss more than anything. Sorry Mum.
“Strong vengeful anger or indignation”
The love we hold for Crisis will never outweigh the love we have in this country for complaining about things. The queue? Too long too and cold (unless you’ve drunk enough at pres, which is unlikely if you’ve got 9pm entry). The bouncers? Mugged you off and/or kicked you. Time taken for the bloke behind the bar to fetch you a jäger? Bit unnecessary.
“A selfish and excessive desire for more of something than is needed (material goods)”
If there’s a time and a place for thieving innocent civilians goods, it’s a Wednesday night in Nottingham. Morals fly out of the window. If you’ve done it it right, you have little memory of the evening and instead re-trace your steps through the many bits and pieces you and your mates managed to accumulate. On your walls lay posters you stole from the toilets. In your kitchen drawer sits the lighter you nicked from the long-lost cousin/family friend/soulmate you found in the smoking area. An abundance of hats and inflatable props are neatly tucked into your wardrobe, and if you’re lucky, you have some road signs in the living room as a reminder of your many pilgrimages home.
“The quality or state of being proud: such as inordinate self-esteem, conceit”
When the notion of pride and the word Crisis is combined, one character comes to mind. They are the kings of the castle that is Rock City. Upon the balcony, they wear a pale blue shirt with a green and yellow tie. They rule the roost and unless you’re a BNOC, the closest you will get to being amongst this lot is one of their VK bottles hitting you on the head when you’re on main floor.
“Excessive indulgence (typically food or drink)”
University is well known for its negative impacts upon the temples that are our bodies. Crisis champions this ideology and ‘a few drinks’ is not an option. You leave the night with a yellow or blue tongue (depends on your flavour preference), an unwarranted beer belly and silly volumes of Maccies in clutch, or you leave early. Your choice. The words “too much” don’t exist on a Wednesday.
“Painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage”
You didn’t manage to get a ticket? Sounds like a poor excuse, but you’ll be jealous of everyone there regardless. Similarly, if you stayed in on Wednesday to make your 9am on Thursday, you probably slept through it anyway. Your housemates likely labelled it as ‘the best night’ and continue to reminisce. “Remember – oh wait, you weren’t there, were you?”. Moral of the story? Always go out. Deadlines are a myth.
“Intense or unbridled (sexual) desire, lasciviousness”
Whether it’s your boring pair of friends who have been together for a suspiciously long amount of time, two strangers who will never speak again (but it will always fill one with disgust the next day), or a friendship now, inevitably, crumbled – love is in the air in main room. Friends, if they have your best interests at heart, will have filmed it, filed it away in case the clip is ever needed as evidence and/or an alibi.
“Disinclination to action or labor, inactivity”
Picture this: It’s Thursday. It’s 11:53 am. You have slept through two lectures and a seminar. Those were the days, and we can collectively agree that we would pay great sums of money to feel that way again. Please, give us back the headaches, the alcohol-induced anxiety, the jittery hands. I want to see an empty kebab box on my bedroom floor, garlic sauce on my sheets and lettuce on my pillow. A single unit of what was once a cheesy chip, alone and vulnerable on the stairs.