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With so many gorgeous fish swimming around in the sea that is York, finding a guy for a night is not only easy (they’re looking for a good time too), but fun.
How better than getting paralytically intoxicated prior to a Wednesday night at Ziggy's? In true, dare I say it, British style, I religiously partake in some Ziggy action on a weekly basis. What happens in Ziggy's should really stay in Ziggy's, for indeed, none of its patrons remember anything the next day anyway. I shall share a few tell-tale stories that characterise the party animal that I have become.
Despite the freezing Yorkshire climate - it being the coldest winter in thirty years - skimpy clothing remains perpetually in fashion in the Ziggy's queue. So sporting a corset, fishnets and heels (claiming to be on a Moulin Rouge social), I braved the hour and a half wait with vodka in hand. For as my Geordie housemate assures me, the alcohol jacket is more than enough to fend off pneumonia.
The beauty of Ziggy's is its way of swallowing up students, squashing them together in the dark and then making it impossible to find anyone inside. This provides the perfect opportunity for some magnificently mischievous antics. The golden housemate rule (never get with someone you live with) flies out the window, as with one girlfriend who managed to get through half her floor in the first three weeks. Surprisingly, this brought her house closer together - admittedly through all the rinsing opportunities it created. No harm done there then!
Still sporting fishnets, I attempted the Ultimate Big Three – pulling a different guy on each floor in Ziggy's. Working from top to bottom, I bumped into a guy from my course at the bar and dragged him into the back passageway. Brushing past lip locked revellers, we squeezed up against the wall for a quick snog. This was the perfect spot, enabling me to make a quick exit down the back stairs.
With one down and two to go, I made a pit stop in the guys' bathroom: a badly kept secret amongst women too impatient to queue. Spying another course mate, I went in for kiss number two. The urinals aren’t exactly stylish - but then you can’t really be picky in Ziggy's.
Well on my way to risqué success, I hit the grunge that is the basement, making a beeline for the half naked rowing team by the DJ. Without wasting any time, I bagged myself number three against the pounding speakers and had accomplished my mission with plenty of time left for dancing.
Stumbling out of Ziggy's several hours later, minus the tights, I looked over my evening with contentment. No one knew about my night of debauchery, therefore my reputation was unblemished to spoil another day.
Three boys, one night. Not bad for a humble night in Ziggy's.
I very much hope to see you in Ziggys...
Bet it was the senior men's rowing squad, so arrogant.
a) Why is this interesting/funny/worthy of notice?
b) Why would one take so much pride in being so incredibly shallow?
I think that this is sickening and a real sign that not everyone in York can think straight.
Adam Thorn didn't get up to half the stuff he wrote anonymously in Vision (in what is essentially a male analogue to this - Confessions of a Campus Playboy or something similar), so I'm willing to bet a lot of this is exaggerated too. I found it pretty entertaining reading.
As one of the few privy to the (inimitable) Playboy's true identity, I would like to clarify that he is not Adam Thorn.
I would like to second that, and also point out most of the Campus Playboy antics were true. Not that the truth behind the stories made them worthy of printing though.
Calling Thorn a liar, #5? Smells like libel to me. 
Interesting first piece by The Yorker's new anonymous lady. I've gotta say my favourite's still Foxy Woods, but there's time for that to change.
#5, you just made my week. Which half of the Campus Playboy column did you think Adam Thorn HAD got up to? I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that none of the Vision editorial team were at any time responsible for writing that...
#6,#7,#8,#9 - one of my friends who was friends with Thorn told me that he was and I believed her, we both must be misinformed.
It's not often I admit it, but I've been well and truly owned 
I miss the campus playboy.
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