Welcome to Bristol, beautiful, bewildering capital of great times

Try to imagine yourself, on a dance-floor, monging out to the sound of some very experimental house music.

In the words of the High Renaissance Man, “welcome to Bristol.”

Booom

The local’s sound like Farmers

There’s the accent, of course – that is the stereotypical West Country accent. The kind of accent that makes you assume the speaker is his mother’s brother.

Importantly, every local in Bristol is a farmer. Bristol has a grow-your-own-veg vibe. Notably in Stokes Croft, where you can peer into somebody’s inner-city vegetable patch, as you stand by a street corner covered in graffiti by rich kids trying to be Banksy, a homegrown Bristol treat.

Not quite Banksy

But don’t let yourself be lulled in by the image of a bunch of stoned hippies wandering around their smallholdings with a huge smile on their face. The Bristol breed of hippy is bullish when it wants to be.

There are lots of angry hippies

In 2011, there were riots. Over a Tesco. Yep, that pretty much sums up the prevailing anti-capitalist, pro-gardening Bristol ideology.

His Father is probably an aristocrat

You’ll discover that Bristol is just a stoned suburb of London. Most of your mates will be from London, so when the inevitably dull conversation starters in Freshers Week occur, most will reply “London” to your “where you from” line.

He’s on the underground, he’s from London

People come to Bristol for a slower existence- to appreciate the little things. This will include: an incredible appreciation for the Stoke Bishop buses, where you will spend many a happy night wallowing in your friend’s vomit.

You’ll end up being sick in the bus or on it

The music scene is savage

You’ll find yourself abjectly ‘proud’ of the music scene – and this will mean you’ll lecture your mates from home, on the fact that “trip hop was founded in Bristol guys, for reals.” Of course you won’t have any bloody clue what you’re on about, but seeing as no one else does, the illusion is fed and watered.

He’s not actually a real DJ

There are many, many hills

While most people go to Uni and put on about a stone in weight, a beer belly and a diet based on Dominoes – you will not. To say, “Bristol is a hilly place” is an understatement. Whether it’s St Michael’s Hill, Park Street, Black Boy Hill, you will return home after a term with the thighs of a prop forward.

This’ll be good for your calfs

Everyone is secretly loaded

No one could write about Bristol without mentioning the “Trustafarians”. Whether at the Uni or in the city, Bristol is swimming with rich kids who dress like a South Asian homeless man on a permanent acid trip.

In their attempt to be edgy, they’ve discarded common sense and dignity in exchange for house music, vaguely left wing beliefs and a dress sense to rival a man who lives in a dustbin.

And what blud

So when you walk around the urine-stained streets, beside walls covered in graffiti and white men appropriating Jamaican culture, don’t be surprised when somebody hollers “Camilla! Edward! Hector! Grezelda! We’ll miss Daddy’s jet”, as they daub glitter on their faces and grab their copy of the Big Issue.

You’re going to love it

Have a good time, one and all – welcome to the best city in the world.