Dear ‘Nightlife’, I have a friend coming to stay with me in York soon. He is currently studying in London and since moving there hasn’t shut up about the incredible nightlife and the crazy shenanigans he gets up to. I may have slightly fabricated the truth and told him that York is full of mental clubs and wild party goers. The truth is that I have only been to Willow on a Monday night. I am afraid that when he comes up he will see through my lies. Where can I take him to show him that London is no match for York?
We have all in our darkest hours had the sneaking suspicion that Willow is neither the world’s premier discotheque nor the answer to all our partying prayers. However, after a few prawn crackers and a few more shots we have all realised we were wrong to ever doubt it. How you could ever want for more than what The Willow Bar Disco has to offer is beyond us. Yes, London is a sea of generic partying locations, but none of them offer the charm and subtle sophistication that York’s nightspots do. Don’t even pretend that you, or anyone of sound mind, would prefer an expensive night out with the city slickers and cool cats, to a five hour stint in Willow, dancing to unremitting cheese. Trust us, your friend won’t know what’s hit him, but he’ll love it. And if he doesn’t, just ply him with pound shots of tequila so he doesn’t remember. (Scene does not condone excess alcohol consumption…although it is fun).
Dear ‘Nightlife’, Like many students from relatively well-to-do, middle class backgrounds, since starting at university I have been almost penniless, thanks to the ridiculous bursary system which doles out dollar after dollar to underserving public-school pension-funded nest-egg fat-cats, leaving nothing for the rest of us. Despite claims that ‘The North’ is fabulously inexpensive, that ‘pint prices’ are disproportionately low compared to the rest of the country and that students are spoilt for crazily cheap drink deals, York does not follow this trend. This creates a bit of a problem when it comes to the socialising side of university life. After paying my food bills and getting a taxi into town on a Friday night, the only money I have left for drinks is barely enough to buy one cocktail from Evil Eye. This usually results in me, desperate for alcoholic beverages, lurking around lone men (who tend to be at least forty years my senior) at the bar, shamelessly flirting and flashing my cleavage so that they might buy me a drink. Degrading to say the least. However, the last time I went out I chanced across an unattended cocktail, which I determined as being a ‘Shed Seven’. I am not proud of myself, but, in a moment of impulsiveness, I whisked the drink from the bar and carried it out to the garden. What is the ‘Nightlife’ party line on stealing drinks? How do you get drunk when you have no money?
Firstly, ‘Nightlife’ could never be seen to be endorsing thievery, so knock that on the head right away missy. Secondly, women who use the promise of sexual favours to procure beverages from lonely, vulnerable, sexually inadequate men are the bane of my life. Every time some a girl sidles over to me, fluttering her eyelashes, I know what she’s after, and she’s not going to get it. The HUSSY. Best case scenario, you demean yourself and make a man feel small and lonely. What I suggest is that you start by setting your sights a little lower than Evil Eye. Cocktails aren’t the answer. What you need is a £5 ‘slab of voddy’ from the local supermarket and you’re set for the appallingly named ‘pre-lash’. Get that down you, and then hit The Lowther or Stone Roses for a couple of sly trebles. Now, this is the most important bit…Willow. Straight to the bar and get those shots in. At one pound a piece, this will be the cherry on the top of your alcoholic cake. For little more than a tenner you’ll be good and sloshed and ready to writhe around on the Willow floor all night long.
*Vision does not advise exceeding the recommended number of alcohol units per week.