Even if you're not a student, you've probably been to a "Worcester Monday", Worcester's student night where the doors of two of the most pitiful clubs on earth are opened, it's apparently cheaper but you're not actually really sure, and mayhem inevitably ensues.

You'll start your night off in Sin. Nobody ever intends to go out in Worcester, it's always a last minute, beer-fuelled decision. You've been necking petrol station rose in the taxi and really don't look dressed for a night out, unlike some of the other people in the queue who have donned heels and fake eyelashes.

Once you get in you head straight to the bar, it's already about three rows deep and you've sobered up by the time you actually get there. Your eye catches a poster for a deal on Jägerbombs, you have all five to yourself.

Sin is absolutely packed, and you keep stumbling into the weird sofa-bed things in the VIP area trying to find your mates, you still can't find them and head out to the "smoking area" (which is actually just an alleyway punctuated withe some soaking wet Ikea garden furniture). You're immediately claustrophobic and try to head down onto the strange driveway bit, before being hauled back by the random security guard whose only job, it seems, is to prevent drunk people from stepping on concrete.

It's almost 1am, and therefore it's almost time to make the pilgrimage from Sin to Bushies. By this point you've already danced to so much cheesy pop that you're drenched in sweat and at least one of your mates has "accidentally" fallen off the stage.

The lights come on, the door gets jammed with drunk idiots all trying to get out at the same time.

You will eventually make it out onto Worcester's incredibly impractical cobbled streets, it's probably raining. You're still holding your drink.

Even though the walk to Bushwackers is approximately four minutes, someone will still need a wee, someone else might be sick (went a bit too hard on the Jägerbombs) and someone else will wonder off to a cash point, unlikely to return.

Bushwackers is the big boy, it's where the party is at. You'll spend your time here walking in a big circle – bar one, bar two, the smoking area and then chatting for hours to Precious in the toilets. You'll tell her your whole life story, give her a stupid amount of money and chant "FRESHEN UP YOUR POO-NA-NI" with her and the other gals in the toilets until it's home time. At some point, someone will do a poo or be sick and Precious will get angry, and start spraying the air with copius amounts of Britney Spears' Fantasy perfume.

Even if you don't smoke, Bushies' smoking area is unavoidable. You'll spend the majority of your night out here, freezing your tits off and chatting shit to people you haven't spoken to since year 11.

Around 4am, after you've screamed your heart out to Wonderwall and Blur's Song 2 in a big circle with all your mates, you emerge from the gates a drunken, sweaty mess and stumble to McDonalds. The queues are literally 50 people deep, there are numerous fights happening. The Maccies bouncers are jsut about containing the five different screaming matches about who-pushed-in-where, there's a line for the toilet longer than the actual line for food and there is vomit. Everywhere.

After being traumatised in McDonald's you'll scramble into a taxi, clutching a greasy cheeseburger and bartering for the best price but realising in the morning that you've actually been incredibly ripped off.

The next morning you wake up, shamed, penniless, hungover on a Tuesday and vowing never to go back there again. Until next week.