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Every type of fuck boy you’ll meet on a York night out

Our university experience would simply just not be the same without them

Ring ring. Your phone lights up. Three words, thirteen letters. You out tonight? You smile.

The sheer thought of going out leaves you breathless. You jump out of bed grinning from ear to ear, wondering which items of clothing are going to bare the wrath of the sweat ridden matrix that is a York night out.

Aside from outfit choice, there’s another thing that crosses your mind. Which York fuckboy am I going to have the honour of meeting tonight?

It’s time. You dial the number you know off by heart and have done since day one, guaranteed to be met with a familiar Yorkshire accent on the other end. "Helluur Streamline…"

The Uni Rugby Boy

They're there!! They're shouting!! They're topless!! It's surely…not….it's only the bloody uni rugby boys!!

"I hear the drums echoing tonight"

You edge closer. Are you sure it's them?? You spotted one on Bumble earlier and you now have your eyes on them.



Yes yes, it's definitely them. * diverts *

Can often be spotted: In the corner of Flares pre-salvo, in a circle topless (shock) jamming out to Africa by Toto. So much so, you don't know whether they're screaming or having a seizure. Suddenly, your Bumble ting isn't looking so buzzworthy.

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The Wannabe Roadman

The skinny frame, the Adidas, the air force, topped off with the notorious bum bag. It can only be…the roadman. Spotted from a mile off, the roadman will claim his spot at the front of the dance floor pretty early on in the night, or alternatively, a corner.

A few VKs down & they'll nearly have you fooled for being a real roadman, until you hear them speak. Alas, the posh Southern accent gives their not so roadman identity away. Too hot? No problem. Sweatshirt comes off, across the shoulder and round the torso it goes.

Can be spotted: In Fibbers, any Soul Candy/Bassmentality event, throwing gunfingers out to the crowds, enough to commit a massacre. Alternatively, can be found in Mansion, lurking on the staircase, desperate for that one bar of signal. "Ayyy bro where u at? It's ded in ere, what u sayin? Let's go afters yeh?"

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The Fresher

The Fresher. The new kid on the block. We've all been there. After they've been informed on what the bloody hell a STYC is, they're whisked straight off onto the 66 to town, an overpriced Nisa pre-mixed cocktail in hand.

In the club, they often stick with their flat mates, they may not like them, but they use them to get by, at least for the first week, if not the first year. If they're not with their STYC they're in the toilets chundering, one is simply not yet used to the neon green VKs. They think they're mature, but once you end up back in their college room and catch sight of that "new home" card from their mum, you're out there quicker than he came.

Can be spotted: Kuda, gotta get that Insta in the camper van. Or Salvo, guaranteed to be painted green, naked or a fairy.

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I'm in me mums caaar

The Gap Yah

They can't quite face the fact that they're back from Colombia, so they make sure everyone suffers as much as they are. Sporting their best shell necklace and Bohemian shirt, the gap yah will make it very obvious they've just returned from the most insaaaane few months, maaate. (raspy posh voice, think Sam Thompson) In fact, their recent travels have been so life changing that they'll incorporate stories into every conversation humanly possible. Instead of the generic replies to normal everyday chat, the good old "when I was in…"

You could be discussing the weather, yet it somehow brings him back to the time he ate dead cat in Rwanda. "You ok Ben?" "Yeah sorry, it's just, ha ha, that reminds me. When I was in Rwanda…"

Of course it was the best meal he's ever had, in fact the whole experience was just eye opening.

Can be spotted: Wednesday Salvo or Sunday Revs. Your phone lights up. Ben's just posted an Instagram, again. Shock, it's from his travels. At least it's not another monkey on his shoulders. "Not all those who wander are lost."

Classic, another great caption Ben. Alas you give it a like anyway because he's a fuckboy. You're no longer even taking anything in that he's saying but you've had enough culture for one night. "Have you ever seen a kangaroo up close though?" Yes Ben, we've all been to Chester zoo.

It doesn't matter where you've been or what you've done with your life, no one will ever sky dive as high as they have, scuba dive as deep as they have, or got "up close" to as many wild animals as they have. Funny that, last time I spoke to Ben he told me he was scared of kangaroos.

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The Rugby Returner

You can take a rugby boy out of York, but you really can't take York out the rugby boy. Known to return for many years to come once they've graduated, the uni rugby boy really can't stay away. Dressed head to toe in their finest clobber, the uni rugby returner will be sure to make a red-carpet appearance in Salvo, not before making sure everyone knows he's here for one night, and one night only. It's been four years boys, you're not the Zac Efron of York anymore. He rocks in steaming after a few cheeky tipples with the lads in Spoons, guaranteed to corner you in smokers, suddenly a lot more well-spoken and mature than you remember. Lighting up a menthol (because he's trying to cut down on the snouts. Some wild geezer he met on his gap year told him how much healthier smoking menthols were for you) Another menthol down and he starts pouring his heart out about the recent struggles of his grad scheme at Deloitte, or was it KPMG? Who knows. "Maate honestly, it's honestly crazy. Office looks right over the city, I shit you not, maaate."

Can be spotted: In Salvo. In a suit. But take note boys, if you're wanting to receive an invite to the annual rugby returners nights, make sure you own a self-tie. "Mate, is that…a clip on?" The mere thought of a clip-on bow tie is enough to put any rugby boy into cardiac arrest.

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Not a clip on in sight

The Promo Boy

You think you recognise him, but you aren't sure if it's just the VK talking. No, wrong. You have seen him before. But where? Then it clicks. Facebook Messenger. He's already sent you an abundance of messages, No, Dom. I do not want a booth and a bottle of grey goose for my birthday. And before you start, I'm already on guestlist. Your phone flashes, another message. It's Dom. "Alright? Still got that booth if you're interested 🙂 x"

Your Uber is arriving.

Can be spotted: Outside Kuda, doing their bit for the queue to earn that extra pound for every person they lure onto guest list. Hundreds of which have probably been spent on their Canada Goose I promise you they'll be wearing for those long cold summer York nights handing out flyers.

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We laugh, but the truth is our university experience would simply just not be the same without them. Whatever fuckboy you're fortunate enough to encounter, be sure to count your lucky stars that night. They're a specimen I guarantee you'll never forget.

All photographs taken from the official 'York Parties – York's Biggest Club Nights & Events' Facebook page.