It’s the time of year again—fake blood, fishnets, and far too many cowboy hats. But among the vampires, angels, and girlies who have been planning their costumes since August, lurks a certain breed of man: The Glasgow Uni boy. You’ll know you’ve pulled one when his “costume” is…just a football shirt.
He’ll insist he “couldn’t be arsed” to dress up properly, claiming it’s ironic, or that he’s “going as himself.”
Spoiler: He forgot it was Halloween until about half an hour before pres, and the shirt was the cleanest thing on the floor (relatively speaking). Expect him to mention which team it is within 30 seconds — and yes, he genuinely believes you care that it’s “vintage Celtic from ‘98.”
He probably turns up with three to five of his flatmates, all dressed identically except for the club colours, like a Poundland version of Power Rangers. One of them will have eyeliner on “as a laugh,” another will lose his ID before they even reach the queue for Hive, and at least one will be carrying a traffic cone.
You’ll spot them easily — huddled by the smoking area, pint in one hand, vape in the other, arguing about how they “could’ve gone pro if their knee hadn’t gone.” The conversation will inevitably shift to which pub has the cheapest pints, followed by an unsolicited opinion on Old Firm politics.
If you’re lucky, he’ll buy you a VK before launching into a heartfelt monologue about how he’s “not like other lads,” despite having a mullet, sambas, and a half-zipped quarter-zip in his tote bag. By the time he asks for your Snapchat instead of your number, you’ll realise his idea of flirting is sending you his BeReal from the library café with the caption “grind never stops.”
The next morning, you’ll check your phone to find he’s followed you on Instagram but hasn’t liked any of your posts — mysterious, he thinks. His story? A blurry mirror pic captioned “last night was chaos” with the same shirt crumpled on the floor.
So, this Halloween, if a boy in a football shirt approaches you with a cheeky grin, Lynx Africa cloud trailing behind him, and confidence wildly disproportionate to his outfit — run. Or don’t. At least you’ll have a story to tell your friends (and maybe a Celtic top in your flat the next day).
Got your own tragic tale about a Glasgow Uni boy in a football shirt? DM The Tab Glasgow on Instagram with your funniest (or most traumatising) Halloween storytimes — we want to hear them.
