Pubs will always be better than clubs
Sweat, sex and regret vs the pub
How many times have you gone out clubbing and claimed to have had the best night of your life?
Think again: was it really, honestly the best night of your life? Probably not.
The night starts at home in your pretty shoddy student accommodation with the cheapest booze you could find at Nisa. Someone in your house whacks out the speakers and puts on some music you probably don’t like but feel morally obliged to sing along to.
You ransack your wardrobe, have an internal debate about the necessity of a jacket and decide the cloakroom is just another word for overdraft and forget the jacket.
By the time you leave the house you’re already pretty drunk and drooling over the Efes kebab you are going to get on the way home.
For those who live in town there is only a short stumble to the club before your night can really begin. But for those living on campus it is now time to dive deep into your pockets to find enough change for a bus ticket, because let’s face it a taxi is a luxury you just cannot afford.
By now you have managed to crawl your way to the club only to find another hour of shuffling to go.
Whilst you’re propped up in the queue by a load of over-excited freshers, you begin to sober up. Now it’s cold. You probably should have brought that jacket.
You reach the doors, pay the entry and try not to think about the fact that with the amount you’ve spent just getting into the club you could have bought two pints in the pub.
Now don’t get me wrong, a night of non-stop dancing to catchy music with all your mates and a few too many drinks is good fun.
However, throw in some old men, a couple of guys with an overly-active sex drive and far too many expensive drinks mixed with the sweat of the person dancing next to you and it’s not so much fun.
After copious amounts of “mixed” vodka drinks, dancing comes naturally. Or so you think.
Pushing your way onto the dancefloor you realise it’s actually a good thing there are so many people there as you probably wouldn’t be able to stand up on your own.
Time to crack out the finger-pointing and the booty-shaking that will carry you through until the early hours.
Eventually it’s time to leave. Transport is optional, but takeaway isn’t.
You try and forget about the amount of calories you wouldn’t have consumed if only you’d gone to the pub and find yourself ordering two large pepperoni pizzas with a side order of chips, cheese and gravy from Salt and Pepper.
You make your way home by any means possible, either by bus, taxi, walking or crawling.
You wake up the next afternoon with the world’s worst headache, check your phone to find 64 messages from your mates filling you in on the soul-destroying details of what happened last night, three missed calls from your mum and multiple emails from your tutors asking about your absence.
All of which could have been avoided if only you went to the pub instead.
There will be some funny stories, and maybe even some funny snapchats, but it was a night you do not and will not ever remember.
So next time you want to drink with your friends, consider the pub. There’s a far wider choice of pubs than clubs in York and you’re guaranteed a very pleasant, inexpensive night and no regrets in the morning.