Fab is the worst night out there is

Fab is the worst club night in town, and no, it isn’t “fresh” either. It may be an unpopular opinion, but it needs to be said. You’ve all been brainwashed into thinking Fab is the pinnacle of the week.

Before you even get into Fab there are a whole string of hurdles to jump. The first is one is the worst: queuing. Not only do you have to queue to get in, but you have to queue to get a ticket. Every Sunday morning, at stupid o’clock, a long train of students stumble over to the Guild. Hungover and unwashed, they stand in the freezing cold and wait for what could be hours, just to get the ticket they crave. It’s like some weird junkie version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Either way, it can’t be denied the queue is torturous, exhausting, and frankly stupid. Is it really worth the desperate coffee, drizzling rain and annoying queue jumpers, when you could be tucked up in bed sleeping off your hangover?

I don’t feel fab OR fresh

Even after hours of waiting in line outside the Guild you’re still unlikely to actually get a ticket, leaving you with the option of buying your ticket from a ticket dealer. This might at first seem like a better idea (at least you don’t have to queue in the cold), but you’ll need a shed load of cash. You see, while queuing at the guild will leave you with frostbite, buying from a ticket dealer will leave you penniless. It wouldn’t be surprising if tickets went for as much as £40. That’s 20 £2 shots, or all of the cooked breakfasts at the Selly Sausage.

Once you’re in (if you’ve managed to grab a ticket, that is), trying to get to the bar is a bit like finding yourself in the middle of a mosh-pit you didn’t realise was about to happen. It’s scary, sweaty, and it feels like you will never reach your destination.

If, by some miracle, you manage to make it through to the bar, not spilling your drink upon exit is as hard as getting there in the first place.

Queuing does leave time to take selfies

Within 10 minutes of entering the building you will, somehow, lose track of at least one member of your group.  You inevitably spend the rest of the night fighting round the building, searching for someone who most likely won’t be seen for the rest of the night.

Getting home from Fab is another battle all together. For freshers it’s really not so much of a problem – your route home is pretty safe as long as you’re not stupid about it. But those living in Selly Oak will know sometimes it doesn’t matter how careful you are. You could walk home surrounded with your own personal body-guard and just fall victim to unfortunate fate.

Why did I go to fab?

With so many other clubs and bars in Birmingham, why do so many choose to go through the trauma-inducing effort required to have a “good time” at Fab? Getting to Fab is crap. The event itself is often a disappointment. Getting home from Fab is a faff.

Please take a second to use the grey-matter between your ears and ask yourself this: do you really think Fab is great, or have you been brainwashed by other people reinforcing to you that Fab n Fresh is “the best night out all week”?