How to spot a University of Leicester fuckboy

If one uses dictionary definitions  of ‘fuck’ and ‘boy’ you get a child or a youth who damages or ruins something and in Leicester that’s not too far off.

Whether it’s in the Attenborough paternoster, the library silent zone, or in the smoking area of the O2, fuckboys have always roamed the campus of UoL.

The ‘house every weekend’ fuckboy

Favourite line: “I heard this DJ before they were famous” or “Creamfields 2016 was lit af.”
Favourite drink: A bottle of water and a gram of MD.

Furiously chewing and gurning, the house fuckboy will attempt to shuffle his way over to you. Constantly bobbing his head to the alternative tropical deep house (or whatever he calls it) music, he will engage in slurred chat and, if you’re lucky, ask you to the next Beastwang or Overground Sessions night.

Though he’ll be able to offer you a pinch of some random drug, he will never be able to offer you his heart. You’ll possibly find him in the Ski & Snowboard Society despite never truly grasping the concept of snow sports.

The ‘I trekked in the Himalayas on my gap yah’ fuckboy

Favourite line: “this one time on my gap yah…” or “my Buddhist spiritual experience changed my life.”
Favourite drink: Rum and Red Bull.

The Gap Yah fuckboy will attempt to wow you with stories on how he spiritually found himself while backpacking across the jungles and beaches of South East Asia, but sadly he could never understand you both on a spiritual and mental level.

The iconic long hair often tied up in a man bun shows that he is desperately trying to hang on to this lost world in which wearing a wife-beater, funky trousers along with drinking cans of Chang beer on the streets was considered the coolest thing to do. Often seen protesting with Leicester Vegan Society despite not realising how privileged that is and how much it undermines the whole “living rough” gap yah.

The ‘I play sport, but in case it wasn’t obvious here’s my pink shirt’ fuckboy

Favourite line: “you up?” or “send nudes plz ;)”
Favourite drink: Blue VK.

You’ll hear chants of “Lads, lads, lads!” across the smoking area after a successful, yet messy, game of Edward Ciderhands was completed during pre’s. They look like an upper class boyband all dressed in the same shirt and chinos and they’re guaranteed to leave their tie at yours as an excuse to pop over. The sports fuckboys may seem appealing, but beware.

Possibly the worst fuckboy – they will always be more concerned about the gym and squad goals than they ever will be for you. Once engaging in conversation with one you may receive the predictable “you up?” text asking you to come over and supposedly “chill.”

It’s all a trap. They’ll sleep around, yet will be the first to call a girl a slut.

The ‘tortured self’ fuckboy

Favourite line: “you just wouldn’t understand.”
Favourite drink: Whisky on the rocks.

Often the edgy and quiet looking kid who has immersed himself in a pile of books on the 3rd floor of the David Wilson. He will charm you with direct quotes from William Faulkner and Mark Twain, but this is merely an act.

You’ll think he’s not like the other guys until you get access to his phone and realise that his intellectual charm is just a cover for the classic fuckboy language. He will have a subscription to Jacobin, but also one for Netflix. He’ll smoke roll ups and explain the different strains of weed. The most dangerous fuckboy as three months of agro down the line it will all click and you will realise he is really just like the rest of them.

By Max Longley & Eleanor Martin