The Stone Roses is the best thing about York

Whether you intend on spending all night there, or treat it as just a pre-drinks bar, there’s no denying the brilliance of Stone Roses. Abnormally brightly coloured drinks at cheap prices, classic rock playlists and pub games galore: what’s not to love?

You wade your way through the masses of people just to reach the almighty bar to order that obligatory £2.70 treble, wishing you’d worn your wellies for the sticky floor that may as well have “spillage is lickage” written all over it. Your next trip is from the bar to the table football table – obviously it wouldn’t be a Tuesday night if you didn’t thrash your housemates with an antagonistic match of table football first.

The table football rivalry starts off fairly civilised, as participants find their allies and safely set down their plastic cups in the drinks holders at either end of the table. The scores start to rack up and the classic vodka Blue Shit drinks get drained, and before you know it you’re losing 7-2 and challenge them to a rematch.

Besides catering to the football elite of our generation, Stone Roses also helps us find our inner boxing prowess as we’re automatically drawn to the punching bag arcade game. What better way to prove your masculinity by scoring 700 in one single punch – isn’t that the reason we all come to York to “study”? Suddenly all the usually-tame boys become as cocky as the UoY rugby team, until they accidentally get hit in the face by the punch bag as it drops into position.

The grandeur of Stone Roses isn’t solely due to the competitive atmosphere: the majestic black posts to the ceiling will remind you of any Ancient Greek columns on a palace exterior – that is, until you see your friend practicing their pitiful pole dancing skills, doing their best tricks with both arms wrapped around it.

Unfortunately all those trebles come at a price, as in no time you’ll be in desperate need to break the seal. However, Stones may well be the worst place to do so as the toilets are without a doubt the last place you want to be. You’ll spend far too much of your night standing in a queue full of others listening to the people inside the cubicles asking each other for toilet roll. Obviously the indie rock and roll aesthetic leaves no room for hygiene.

Regardless, you rinse your hands and run back down the stairs for another two drinks, Student ID’s in hand, dodging the locals on your way. Let’s just hope it never floods.