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Clubbing: a juvenile experience?

With the fun of freshers, by second year we are arguably more selective and less tolerant in our choice of nightclubs.


With so much unforgettable nightlife in London, freshers is just the beginning for many: with at least two events organised by King’s each night in Freshers’ Week, we learn that many friends can be made by attending these nights out. Freshers’ Week is the starting point of the friendships you make at uni, and is key to becoming a ‘cultured Londoner’ – if you can remember it, that is. Over the course of my first year I think that in total I went to about 25 different clubs. Call me sad for counting but I just wanted to warn you that I’m no party pooper before you read this.

However, one year wiser, I find myself failing to have as much fun in nightclubs. I’d like to explore this issue with you and try to find a reason for my plight…

Maybe the novelty is wearing off? I mean when you’re 18, clubbing is the equivalent of the forbidden apple on the tree; no entry for children (supposedly), your first milestone of adulthood, your first legal entry into a club. Innocence lost. Now after a whole year of it, they all seem to merge into one hazy blur.

In a sense you go there to lose yourself in some way, be it through dancing, drinking or making friends – a sort of escapism from the everyday drizzle of London Town.

The epitome of this escapism is probably the infamous Walkabout. I admit that the first few weeks were great; meeting KCL students and the lure of cheap drinks certainly drew me in. However, as soon as you either smell the abundant fumes of urine or you accidentally witness two lovers getting down and dirty on the corner benches, the illusion of fun is over and you want to go home.

Maybe I’ve overthought it. The truth of paying no less than a fiver to get into a dark room playing music with cheap strobe lighting does get to me sometimes, not to mention the awful hangovers the next day.

This brings me to the crux of the matter: that you can’t really get to know anyone whilst clubbing. Think about it: you have no real chance of talking to anyone with music blasting out of speakers at full volume. In that way, the scope for proper bonding is limited at a very superficial level. Indeed, if this occurs week in, week out, your friendship can never reach that deeper level “when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence”, as Mia Wallace so eloquently puts it.

That said, there are elements of clubbing that you can’t really find anywhere else. If you’re up for a good old dance, like me, this is not really found as much in bars or pubs.

Have I found a reason for my ‘first world problem’ of no longer enjoying clubs as much as I used to? In the end, although I’m not over clubbing, my ‘plight’ probably boils down to more experience and, therefore, a severely lower tolerance of clubs, especially the bad ones.


A man in a suit and a woman in dressing gown dancing


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