A boys’ night out from a girl’s perspective

Can you not have a night off from FIFA?

Every girl has had to listen to their guy friends rave about a boy’s night out. They’ll tell you it’s amazing, that every night is unique and that it shits over a girl’s night out. But the truth is every night isn’t unique. A boy’s night out has very specific rituals, including, but are not limited to, the excessive chanting of “lads lads lads”.

Shower beers/showering together in swimming shorts

Boys obviously don’t like to waste drinking time. In order to get as fucked as possible, why not cut a corner and drink while you wash, or get nice and soapy with your best mates? Clearly boys understand valuable time equals drinking time, and so every single activity will include some form of alcohol. Even washing.


Yaaasss let’s do what we do all day every day, but drink while we do it. Fucking amazing idea. All pres must include this, because who doesn’t love making animated men run around a football pitch and kick a ball, all with a beer in hand?

Dirty pints

“Nah mate I swear, vodka and beer is a great combination.” Now because your mate Ben said this and Ben is a #lad, it must be 100 per cent a legit idea. You down this combo with an added shot of whatever you have lying around, because you’re never one to play it safe.


The dirty pint might make you vom, but it’ll also make you a fucking lad

Deliberately breaking pieces of furniture

What did the fucking toilet seat ever do to you? Nothing that’s what. Put it back. Idiot.

Odds/eyebrows/any other codeword for bravado and peer pressured stupidity

Ben the #lad is at it again. Now he thinks eyebrow slits are going to be an absolutely hilarious idea that would definitely sort John’s look out. You play odds because that obviously is, again, 100 per cent a legit idea on how to decide anything. John lost odds. John lost his eyebrow.

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Squad goals

Deciding who calls the taxi

And you thought girls were slow to decide. Someone will think walking is a class idea, but it’s snowing outside and John is kicking off because his (now gone) eyebrow will get cold. The taxi debate lasts a solid 27 minutes.

Will you need to buy tickets? You never bother

“This week is gonna be a sell out mate, we’ll deffo get tickets sorted.” That was Monday and now it’s Friday and your mate Harry has fucked you over by not bothering to buy them. He swore he knew a guy who would sort them but now you have to cut pres early to make sure you get in. Never trust Harry, he doesn’t know anyone.

You decide to walk it no matter how far/cold/wet it is, because: ROAD BEERS

Road beers are essential because Harry fucked you over. Even though it’ll be max £3 each in a taxi, no bottles = no legends. Everyone without tickets overtakes you on the way there and Ben is walking in the road because what’s more classic than a 20-year-old with a cone on his head? Gotta Snapchat that mate.

No coats, we’d rather have a shot than pay for the cloakroom

Cloakroom inflation means you don’t wear coats. It’s January and it’s still fucking snowing but the beer jackets will protect the boys. Apparently risking a chest infection gets you lad points, but giving your coat to a girl basically gets you laid, so not such a classic idea now is it?


When we get there do we push in the queue?

Harry has told everyone he knows the guy on the door, but of course it turns out he isn’t working that night. Chanting happens and it’s weird, why do they keep shouting FIYAH? There’s literally no fire.

Chats shit, doesn’t get banged

Who is everyone shagging tonight then? Apart from John. John thinks he’s in love with the captain of the netball second team. Secretly everyone hates John. They creep from behind, as if this pushy form of “dancing” is actually going to get you talking to a girl. You don’t see the “help me” eyes darting around her friendship group, just let it go mate.

This leads to sharking, because that obviously always works

We see you. This relentless attempt to sneakily pull the girl of your dreams, while admirable, is also slightly creepy. Please stop.

Someone goes missing

There’s always one rogue member of the group who disappears and comes back telling everyone he was “pulling a bird”. More often than not you find him either buying or selling cigarettes in the smoking area.


That moment when you find your lost mate

You start shoving the guy you haven’t liked since your first pre-drinks in Freshers’

This has been months in the making. You spot Quirky-Theo from halls dancing solo to Beyonce. What a wanker.
The music changes and everyone’s jumping: this is the perfect moment. You start shoving him in time with the music and the lads are backing you up. But it backfires. Theo has taken this as a sign of acceptance and doesn’t leave for your side for a tense 45 minutes.


You haven’t spoken since Freshers’ but tonight you’re bezzies

You tiptoe around the huge puddle in the toilets every time you go for a wee

It’s suspiciously placed and suspiciously coloured. You’re not sure whether you’re brave enough to jump over. It would be devastating to those brogues if you didn’t make it so you tiptoe round.

You drink Sambuca until one of you is lying in the huge puddle in the toilets

Lads like to think they’re so hard and they can outdrink a girl but this isn’t true. John just can’t hack the pace. Five shots of Sambuca and he’s on the floor. In the puddle. Everyone tweets a memorial post about his shoes. Classic.


You okay hun?

Big greasy kebab after

It’s a must. It’s a necessity. Boys will swear it’d be rude not to. The justifications from five minutes ago linger in the air as they head into Curry Hut, “it’ll soak up the alcohol”, “I’ve got a stamp card”. But it never ends up well when the doner you trusted revisits you in the gutter of the unsteady walk home.

Search for an offy still open for ROAD BEERS cos inevitably none of you have pulled

The walk home is a pilgrimage and for that you need to keep your spirits up (literally). Wandering along the deserted streets like a scene from I am Legend, Harry will swear blind he was walking home a few months back to find that Wine Flair was still open. You drunkenly trust him, only to be crushingly let down when you find out he is, in fact, an idiot and refuse to talk to him for the rest of the walk. Fuck sake Harry.


Odds on falling asleep in each other’s arms?

Two or three of you end up spooning in the same bed but dismiss it as banter

Ben lives with a girl you once pulled at freshers’ and you don’t want to wake up on the settee while she’s having her cornflakes. So you all pile into Ben’s bed, having top banter at John’s expense because he pulled a 2/10. Top night.