Fuck Going Out
Seriously. Going out for New Year’s Eve is our idea of hell. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not a pair of miserable bastards who hate fun — in fact, here’s an old rave photo to prove it:
While I might look unintentionally serious as shit in the above picture, I can assure you, we were having a brilliant time.
So, why is going out on NYE a terrible idea? Well…
Everyone goes out
More people out means you’ve got less personal space, so less room to dance or sit, and more person/person collisions of every magnitude — whether that be an accidental elbow to the ribs or some wazzock spilling your pint, more people in one location will always lead to more than the usual amount of violence. Massive gangs of people seem to think their shared invincibility is exponentially proportional to the size of their group, which inevitably ends up with more dickish behaviour in general.
More people also means more competition for both the bar and in summoning appropriate transport for the journey home. Both of those situations also bring to mind my next point…
Everything Costs A Fortune
£79.95 for a pint and 4x the usual taxi price (the latter isn’t an exaggeration) coupled with the terrible “consumer experience” I just mentioned automatically make me resent the entire night. This is coming from someone who’s routinely paid £2.50 for a bottle of water without complaining because it didn’t take him fucking for-ever to get served.
Everyone MUST get as drunk as possible
Apparently, if your liver doesn’t explode from acute alcohol poisoning or you can’t ignite your breath, then it’s not a good night out. For a minority of drinkers, that applies to every Saturday night, but that school of thought becomes all the more inclusive in the context of New Year’s Eve. As we all already know, this leads to more violence & aggression, dangerous driving and both the average size and frequency of sick splatters that adorn the pavements. Oh, and the toilets… my god, the toilets. Anyway, moving on…
Pressure to have the BEST time
“The turning of the stars bring a time when my secrets can give you immortality. But when that time has passed, those fleeting minutes gone, the secret is worthless, until once again the stars unlock its power.”
During a single orbit of Neptune around our own star, we get to celebrate NYE less than 165 times. As such, it’s imperative that the night be TOTALLY AWESOME!!!1eleven!! because its ages ’til the next one. A tall order for any other night, but when you’re already having to compensate for the increased dickhead population, time-to-service at the bar and the king’s ransom you’re expected to fork over per drink, it’s no wonder everyone has such a short fuse. This might manifest itself as violence, streams of tears & mascara or anything in between.
No pressure on the venue
Venues can get away with murder on NYE. They just have to book some alright DJs before they inevitably sell out. Why book the best of the best when you’ll get literally zero more people attending? That extra cash saved can be put towards booking someone big to draw a bigger crowd on any other night.
Jesus Christ, is it cold. I have a beard and tend to wear jeans on a night out and I think it’s cold. A typical girl out on Birmingham’s Broad Street, however, somehow continues to survive wearing much, much less — I’d be cold on a breezy summer’s afternoon wearing the kind of thing they obviously find acceptable. The smoking ban also means that your venue of choice will probably have some doors permanently ajar, as though the doorway itself were designed as the most efficient way to transfer thermal energy out of the building.
…so that’s why we stayed in..