chino-wearing triangle warrior
Let’s get the obvious out of the way. If you are a male who is vaguely interested in any sport and have arrived in Bristol without a pair of chinos, I strongly suggest you get yourself to M&S. ASAP. I’m all for activism, change, revolution, even; but chinos and Bristol are like thinking of the boy you slept with in first year and feeling perpetually ill; you simply do not have one without the other. Sports teams operate like an army corps, and chinos are the uniform. It’s awful and middle-aged and frankly not cool, but there is simply nothing you can do. Buy a pair and be prepared for them to be covered in VK or sick or sick-infused VK (charming, I know).
puesdo West-Londoner
The orbit of West London is much bigger than it previously was, now that you have arrived in Bristol. You will find yourself wearing white linens, boat shoes and stripes by Christmas, and before you know it, you will frequent Gail’s almost as much as an expectant mother who has just exchanged on a townhouse in Clapham; A hard pill to swallow if you’re from north of the M25. You will build a scarf collection and have an urge to learn to ski, and by the summer, you will be talking about Wimbledon at least twice a week, and at least five people you know will be going. The lucky few of you will keep your regional accents, as for the rest of you, your ‘A’s will get softer by the hour, and you will elongate the ‘oh’ sound. Spoken by someone who sounds like I was brought up in Fulham and certainly was not; it’s tough, but hey, I fit in in Daisy’s.
ASS merchant
Stockholm syndrome awaits you, alongside an impressive tolerance for disgustingly bright lights. You will hate it, tell everyone you hate it, but still find yourself in the ASS 7 hours a day by the time mid-December rolls around. Do not be embarrassed by this; remember how you fooled the university into thinking you were an academic marvel in your personal statement. The ASS is your best chance of bringing that eager avatar to life.
Someone who doesn’t think D&B is just noise
Some of you will have come to Bristol for the music scene; we are, of course, the D&B capital of the world (she says with zero fact-checking). Others of you will have come for Bristol’s academic reputation, the suspension bridge and our unchanged reputation of enormous fun – all D&B is to you is noise, really loud noise. It’s quite impressive how one’s ears adjust to such noise, and dare I say, it becomes enjoyable without sniffing white powder. Lakota will transition in your mind from an establishment of grotty toilets and deafening beat drops to dare I say, somewhere quite fun and an excuse to decorate yourself in neon paint.
LinkedIn obsessive
Arguably the worst on the list, but frankly, an inescapable fate for many. Say goodbye to being in touch with reality, not stressing about your career and any lovely, fuzzy, warm feelings you may have ever felt. By the end of the first year, you will have a LinkedIn account – originally downloaded to stalk the millionaire parents of your flatmates, but now it’s got a hold on your life and all you hold dear. Anxiety-inducing, a cesspit of fake congratulations and the word ‘delighted’ over and over again. Welcome to the real world, Kids. You now know what KPMG stands for, and you will find yourself crying over what font to use on your CV.
Someone who discovers a flair for costumes/themes
You are a fool if you thought your days of costume parties and silly outfits ended in year six; they have only just begun. Be prepared to coat yourself in red paint, wear a swimming hat to daisies and end up going back to someone’s dressed as a turnip. You will quickly find that your economics degree does not allow you to harness any of your creative genius; all of that will be channelled into Wednesday night outfits. It’s rare to be invited to a Bristol birthday party that doesn’t have a theme that has seemingly been pulled from thin air. Charity shops are your best friends, hold dear every piece of ugly clothing – the day you bin it will happen to be a big fishies at SWX.
Someone who no longer shits on VKs
4% alcohol, neon and tastes like juice…do not pretend you are better than VKs. The quicker you ditch the ‘I am above VKs’ facade, frankly, the happier your university life will become. It’s foolish, amateurish and indicative of your economic incompetence to be in La Rocca not holding three VKs. Yes, you are in for the worst hangover of your life, but the buzz of eight VKs is quite literally unmatched. Don’t look at the nutrition information label; you’re young, wild, and ignorance is bliss.
A ‘social’ smoker 
It’s surprising, given the atrocious excuses that most Bristol clubs have for smoking areas, that we smoke as much as we do. But trust me, it is rare that one will cruise through their time at university without the aid of fake Marlboro Golds (found in the St Michael’s hills off-licence, thank me later.) Is it for the Image? Totally. Will you be peer-pressured into it? Almost definitely. By the time you’re a final year, will you have a sneaking suspicion you may actually be addicted to nicotine? It’s probable. But how else are you going to meet your future best mates if you have no reason to be in the smoking area? How will you ever seduce someone in the Highbury Vaults pub garden without a cigarette in hand? It’s not cool, not healthy – but nor are chinos and VKs, are you sensing a theme here?
