This lot arrived at university lost little lambs just as nervous as the rest of us. They didn’t know where they stood until that triumphant day where they looked across the dining room and felt like they were standing in front of a mirror. Wearing a cap inside? Check. Wearing an oversized t shirt with obscure urban logo? Check. Bit of a tosser? Check. With all the boxes ticked, the alliance was formed. I am sure we are all too familiar with the particular species of human I am referring to. They have congregated to form a band of cap-wearing-not-caring reprobates who, when not chanting the thought provoking words “Lads! Lads! Lads!”, are throwing up in stairwells and concocting plans to ‘rag the girl in flat one’.
“They have congregated to form a band of cap-wearing not-caring reprobates who chant the thought provoking words ‘Lads! Lads! Lads!’”
They claim to host the “maddest prinks” in the whole of Newcastle and walking into one of these said pre-drinks is something you will most likely only do once. The kitchen has taken on the form of a tiny warehouse rave. There’s one guy in sunglasses and a puffer jacket bobbing in front of a Mac Book Air trying to get the vibe just right. His mates stand around him protectively like he’s Alesso and everyone else are his hysterical fans. After observing for a minute or two, you’ll notice the place to be is by the oven. Nonchalantly sitting on the hobs, boys kitted out in Ellesse surround a pan which has now taken on the role of in-house ash tray.
The boy to girl ratio is almost comical. Every time a new girl walks into the room, the boys look up to evaluate before resuming to their pre-club shuffling practice. The girls are expected to be there but if they expect to be spoken to them they’ve come to the wrong place. These boys don’t do chit-chat and they definitely don’t do caring. Caring is for the weaker man. The lesser lad, if you will. In between picking up from their dealer who’s actually a ‘really sound bloke’ and football practice, these boys are attending every event on Facebook, which I must admit is pretty baffling given some of these events fall on the same night at the same time. But of course, this is all part of the plan. Keeping us all on our toes whilst we decide on a ticket to buy and just hope to God they bought that one too. And let’s be honest, if they didn’t see you out, were you even out? This squad of boys formed quicker than the mould on that loaf of bread you forgot about in first week. And much like mould, once you see it you can’t seem to unsee it. It’s everywhere, and so are these guys. They’re the ones head-butting Geordies’, pissing on shop windows and running about with half an eyebrow.
“This squad formed quicker than the mould on that loaf of bread you forgot about in first week”
Obviously, one must stress that wearing a cap doesn’t necessarily make you one of ‘them’. Nor does a perchance for a heavy beat. I’m sure there’s plenty of lovely cap-wearing, house-music lovers out there, and I salute you for your choices (and for liking those things and not succumbing to the stereotype). There’s nothing wrong with being ‘lads’ at uni together. Just don’t make me listen to your ‘hilarous banter’.
If, and I envy you I really do, you haven’t seen them in any of these scenarios, you’re best bet is to head to the casino. Chucking out chips like student loans are bottomless A generation lost in piles of Ketamine and Nando’a receipts.