Every type of girl you’ll meet in the Jesters loo
The double toilet is Soton’s answer to Noah’s Ark
As soon as you make the steep descent down the rickety stairs into Jesters – although not as treacherous as Sobar – you realise there’s nothing quite like this place. Where else do you need Jesters shoes? Where else do you need to be this level of battered to survive more than an hour? Even when you’re a good eight out of 10 drunk, that smell just hits you.
You brave the sticky floors to make your way to the bar where the friendly staff greet you in none-other than wellies. With your Jesticle or another equally delicious concoction at the ready, you look over to the dance floor and of course the rugby boys are already half naked – and Baywatch hasn’t even started playing.
The loos at Jesters are something to savour in their own right. You soon realise that sticky snakebite stained floors aren’t the only reason the staff are in wellies.
Boys have always been bemused by girls going to the loo together. Jesters celebrates this occurrence with the infamous double toilet, a walk past the queue and you’ll see girls queuing up two-by-two as if going into Noah’s ark – a zoo it most definitely is.
Your new best friend
Every single night you go on, you’ll make a random best friend. You won’t remember who they are the next day – you’re too drunk to know. It starts with complementing your clothing or your hair, then the next thing you know you’re soul mates. Often it’s someone from your course, halls or maybe even your hometown. Whatever it is, you’ll find some way of talking for far too long.
You think you’re basically sisters, and are completely inseparable for the rest of the night. You might end up at Manzil’s if you’re really committed – with some random boys in tow who offer to buy you a Naan. The next morning you wake up to missed calls from random numbers. If you’re really unlucky you might see them in your lecture, so keep your head down and complete ignorance will get you through this one.
The future planners
We’ve all been here after a few to many. You bump into that random girl you know on your course or in the halls next door. Suddenly you start throwing plans around, not just any plans but future plans – anything as small as Oceana on a Wednesday to organising a dinner to the simply ludicrous.
“Let’s go on a group holiday” – next thing you know you’ve booked a return flight to Croatia for July. In the moment these plans are totally happening, next morning you realise they are as empty as the bottles you bought from Champagne Charlies last night.
Pretty much everyone has been here at some point in their three years at Southampton, if you’re going to vomit somewhere it may as well be in the Jesters toilets. They’ll hog the loo as you cross your legs desperately.
These girls are usually marched into the toilets by their very patient friends – good cop, bad cop. One girl is forcing water down whilst the other is stroking their hair making sure they’re ok. Occasionally you see one hugging the toilet – a rookie mistake. No amount of showering is going to scrub that pure filth off.
There’s always one. The poor soul barely breathing between all the sobbing, not helped by the stream of mascara streaming down her cheeks. What’s the reason this time? Has she just been rejected rather embarrassingly by a hottie from the swim team and subsequently punched him?
The crying is more often than not boy related, and everyone is so reassuring despite wanting to be back on the dancefloor. Exclamations of “He’s a total dick”, “He wasn’t even that hot” “You’ll be fine” in between promises of her finding someone so much better surround the crier by her squad of girls.
You’ll find this breed crowding around the mirrors, like bees to a hunny pot. Typically Vixens, maybe a few polo players, but we’ve all been there. They’ll pout as they reapply lipstick while shooshing their hair and asking for constant praise from their fellow posers. This is followed by a toilet photoshoot: selfies, mirror pics, and general fun time shots.
You’ll spot them later in the middle of the dance floor wedging themselves between the football and rugby boys.
No girly toilet trip would be complete without overhearing “I just hate her. What is she doing here? I mean what is she wearing?” Often the bitching is caveated with the usual “I’m not a horrible person, and I’m not usually a bitch BUT…”
Bitching doesn’t need to be logical in Jesters, instead it can be inspired by that girl that looked at you weirdly one time in the library, the girl that spilt her drink on you by accident, or the girl in the group that makes snide comments. Sometimes it can be a boyfriend stealer or maybe they are just plain ugly – who knows – probably not even you.