When I just wanted to sleep

After a night out at the LRV, all I wanted was to go to sleep, I was wrecked. Instead, however, the night turned into a Guiter Hero competition in my room, much to my annoyance. So while cursing the day I ever brought the damned game, I took my duvet, pillow and lack of self awareness, and slept in the horrifically uncomfortable Doulton corridor. For two ridiculously painful hours, I tried to nod off, before I moved back into my lovely room, and proceeded to throw Guitar Hero out the chuffing window.

My head got shaved

I lived with a lad called Dan Squire. Dan made Hugh Heffner look like a virgin, in the first week at Doulton he probably pulled around ten girls, and by his standards, that was a poor week. So me, being the naive silly chum I was back then, bet Dan that he couldn't get with this one girl, and if he did, he could shave my head.
He got with the girl.
So, on the first Thursday of the year, the whole floor gathered round as my striking blonde locks were ripped to the ground, and I was left with a daft looking mohawk. I never made a bet involving any of my hair again.

Blocking John's door off with Strongbow cans

John had no idea that his room had been blocked off with cider cans while he was away, my personal favourite bit is when he actually kicks the cans forward, so they all go into his room.

The happiest picture ever

I think this speaks for itself

Bonding

The night me and Nick Kiefert first bonded, with a badminton racket and a copy of the complimentary FHM magazine in the Doulton help me kit. It definately helped.

Getting smurfed

I got dressed up as a smurf for the lrv, and got back for some smurfing, but instead got wedgied to within an inch of my life.

Passing out in doorway

After a rather forgettable night at gobble (not for the poor quality of the night, just for the excessive binging on ribena) I got back to the safety of the Doulton halls, but just couldn't make those extra few inches (story of...) to my bed.

Tequila boy

I have a friend called James Perkins. James likes to drink, often to the point where he forgets most things. Many mornings I’ve asked James; “Did you have a good night last night?” Many times James has replied to me; “I don’t know.”
In our first year, James built up a reputation as a charming young man, but on a night out he became a frightening menace of a chap, able to consume alchohol at the rate of a sieve, without even knowing he was doing it.
However, his reputation became shattered to pieces one Winter's evening in 2007. James came round to Doulton to play drinking Pro Evo (a football video game for all you crazy non football people). I had brought a bottle of sidekick in preparation for the occasion, and James brought tequila. That was his first mistake.
For whatever reason, James did not take kindly to the forthcoming tequila. After his first shot of the night, James’ face became pale, his speech inpaired, his Pro Evo “skills” turned into that of a legend, as he soon scored three goals past me with his goalkeepers. That’s not even a lie, he did it. I don’t even know how, it still haunts me to this day.
It was the second shot of tequila that secured James’ status as a Doulton legend though. The son of a gun downed it like a trooper, but within seconds of me turning round to pour the next set of drinks, he had Usain Bolt’d out of my room to the toilet, where to the disgrace of his high standards of life threatening drinking, he threw up.
What seemed at the time was just a funny story, soon became elevated when the next year of Doulton heroes moved in to RDYellow in 2008. I helped people them move in, and they met my friend James, where inevitably, the tale of his woe may have come up, repeatly, to the point where he developede the nickname “Tequila Boy.”
Tequila Boy is still greeted by his adopted name many a night in the LRV, and his greatest shame has since spurred him on to become one of the greatest drinkers many of us have ever seen. Long live Tequila Boy. And remember kids, don’t do drugs.

autumn video montage (sophie powell)

box goes down the stairs (sophie powell)