What your campus bar says about you
They’re all terrible
The longer you’re here at York, the more you’ll realise the campus bars aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Sure, most of them are pretty cheap, and are obviously handy to get to if you’re living on campus. But there’s a reason there’s a distinction between campus bars and actual bars – all campus bars seem to have at least one drawback that makes you cringe when you think of going there, whether it’s having to pay with your phone or the twatty clientele.
Right now, you might still think your favourite campus bar is the exception. Well, I’m afraid you’re gravely wrong. With that in mind, let’s have a look at what your campus bar says about you.
Where else to begin than probably the most frequented of all campus bars, The Courtyard. Now, if this happens to be your favourite bar on campus, the chances are you only use it for lunch (in fairness, the cheap meals in there are a godsend on a nine-to-five). Either that, or you’ve never been to a bar in your life.
If you love Courtyard, you’ve almost certainly led an overwhelmingly sheltered life before uni. You’re probably from somewhere in the Home Counties, Buckinghamshire or Kent. You never really drank or went out at all when you lived back at home – you sat in revising for your A Levels nine months in advance, drank tea and watched repeats of The Chase. Back then, a Bacardi Breezer and two shots of Cactus Jack’s in a car park by the nearest Waitrose was a “fucking mad one”.
Nobody who considers an establishment where customers queue like fucking children waiting for their school dinners simply to get a pint of slightly flat Carlsberg can ever have been to an actual bar, surely. I mean, what the hell is that about? Why are we queuing? It’s not a single stall. THERE’S A BAR, I CAN SEE IT!
Also, that quiz machine in the corner is fucking rigged.
Now, most of the week, V-Bar is fine. For a start, it’s usually closed, as it only ever seems to be open every time there’s a full moon or some kind of solar eclipse. However, Monday nights at V-Bar make it synonymous with one thing: jazz.
A love of all things V-Bar suggests you’re probably the kind of guy who’s just marvellously original. Jazz music is your rock and roll. You think The Beatles were boring, and that they pale in comparison to some beat-up jazz-bebop vinyl you picked up at a car boot sale. V-Bar is ideal for you because there’s nothing you enjoy more than chilling out in your beret with a nice pint of the wonderful “real” ale they serve there, listening to the excellent live jazz music.
Unfortunately, your perceived aura of original coolness is a delusion. That real ale you drink is 2.8 per cent and costs about £4 a pint. The “expressive” jazz music you indulge in is, basically, musical wanking. At any jazz concert, it’s almost guaranteed the musicians playing the music are having a far better time than the vast majority of the poor, unfortunate souls in the audience. Yes, we get it, you can play your instrument well. You don’t have to play every chord and screech every note in existence to get your point across. You’re making me want to rinse my ears out with bleach.
Now finish that ale, get yourself a pint of Stella, blast out ‘Wonderwall’ and we’ll all have a good old sing-song.
Fans of The Lounge, located in the Roger Kirk Centre in the middle of James college, must be a trendy bunch. The YUSU bar’s webpage proudly proclaims itself as “the only cocktail bar on campus!” and “the perfect starting point for a night out”.
I can only imagine frequenters of The Lounge to be the kind of people who buy their clothes from vintage shops, wear those horrendous patterned trousers and order Cosmopolitans. Then they sit together on the leather couches (their request for beanbags has yet to be approved) and discuss in-depth the themes and motifs featured in the latest Mumford and Sons album.
But to be honest, does anyone actually frequent The Lounge regularly? I mean, I’ve been once, and that was during Freshers’ Week. It never seems to be open other than for YUSU events, and even when it is open it’s a ghost town. People who think The Lounge is the best bar on campus may be mythical beings.
But if they do exist, they’re almost certainly bellends.
And now onto The Glasshouse, Hes East’s one and only licensed drinking establishment, which firstly, is a fucking trek to get to if you’re not already living there. Trips here are also pointless because the area it’s located in seems as eerily quiet as the village of Royston Vasey from The League of Gentleman. There’s little to find there at night other than wild rabbits shagging all over the place.
It’s hard to describe The Glasshouse’s regular patrons without resorting to the classic Hes East cliches about being rich, but I’ll try my best.
For a start, regional accents seem to be a myth here. Regulars were educated at some private school, and go on relentlessly about how they’re perennially skint because their student loan was really small and they don’t want to rely on Mummy and Daddy because they’re determined to demonstrate they’re independent and can survive on their own. Well, at least until term two when their funds are dwindling and they face the grim prospect of shopping at Heron Foods and Lidl.
They’re a great fan of the Marmite nights at Glasshouse, and ,as a standard, always order the cocktail corresponding to the college they’re in because #constantine4lyf.
No list compiling the kind of people who drink at different campus bars would be complete without the treasure trove for arseholes that is D-Bar.
It’s highly possible people frequent D-Bar simply because they like playing pool. It’s also possible they only head there early in the morning for a caffeine-boost from Costa.
However, if you’re a D-Bar fan and neither of those sound like you, you almost certainly play for one of the Derwent sports teams, probably football or rugby. D-Bar is your first port of call before any night out, especially on Wednesdays when you and the #LADSLADSLADS all dress up hilariously as women for your routine Salvo’s trip (listen, it’s the 21st Century, you don’t have to use a fancy dress party as a reason to dress up in women’s clothes, you can freely admit you love the thrill of that La Senza thong).
You’re Derwent till you die and quite possibly the greatest banter king York has ever seen. I mean, I can’t believe you mineswept that drink you absolute legend!