With the significant social event known as Paddy’s Day coming up, Jon Hozier-Byrne and Anna Burzlaff argue whether going out is ever worth the hassle
Anna: Before we begin I want to let you know that if at any point you feel the urge to curl into a ball and rock back and forth during this Head to Head please do; I know how your type revert to that kind of activity.
Let’s put it simply, the arguments for staying in are few and far between. Aside from slowly mutating into a social recluse, you miss out on the one joy of being a student in Ireland –prolific drinking – as well as socialising, and unashamed horrific public dancing. Staying in labels you as a weirdo and loner, and before you know it you’ve become those kids from Columbine.
Jon: Listen here you alcohol-swilling, taxi-driver-scoring party girl. Going out is for madmen, teenagers and drug addicts. There is nothing worse than a room filled with sweaty, under-dressed, unapologetically horny drunkards who want nothing more than to fondle each other and listen to Tiesto. The great magic of staying in is that you can avoid the single worst part of the outside world – other people. Why would you ever leave the house?
Anna: Staying in is for the uggos of the world, too ashamed of their mangled faces to even leave the house. While you’re staring at those guests pathetic enough to actually come, you’re forced to consume as much of your flat Dutch Gold as possible in the vain attempt that someone there might appear attractive enough to fill your empty nights with.
While we social beings are dancing to the rockin’ beats of Tiesto, you hermits are huddled in a small room on uncomfortable couches, just waiting for the night to end. Staying in is just plain awkward as you struggle to make conversation and inevitably end up having to talk to someone whose body odour is stronger than a pile of decomposing cats.
Jon: Better that I converse with someone with decomposing cat odour than get off with them – I’ve seen those photos you tried untagging yourself from. A conversation is just one of the many things that become impossible in the hellish din of a nightclub. Other examples include; your own cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and access to YouTube.
Truly, that is the way kings spend their evenings. I dare you to suggest that a leisurely evening in can be topped by a night spent holding back your drunken friend’s hair in the toilets in Burger King. If you can’t remember a night where you’ve had to do that, you’re probably that friend.
Anna: I’ll have you know that all my nightly actions are the image of respectability…well sort of. My biggest problem with staying in is the sheer banality of it all – the same people, the same conversations and the same lingering sense of life-wasting. Not only are the glorious cattle-herds of Tripod available to those who go out, but also a variety of pubs and bars; you can even go to concerts. College days are about experiencing new things and new people, not sitting around a table playing Scrabble.
Jon: Don’t you dare bring Scrabble into this. Here are bullet points to your allegedly ‘fun’ suggestions; Pubs and bars – an expensive version of your own living room, but with strangers and old men. Concerts – standing up for two hours listening to 17 opening acts you’ve never heard of, before listening to a band play the entirety of their inevitably shit new album. You know, Anna, if you need help, we’re all there for you. We’re getting worried, you know.
Anna: If you can’t afford €15 entry and €10 drinks, you’re the kind of underprivileged riff-raff I wouldn’t want to be associating with anyway. At the end of the day, the fact that hundreds of people are willing to pay into clubs every Friday and Saturday night proves how good going out really is. And besides, all this going out hatred is down to your own embitterment. We all know you’re barred from D2 after you “accidentally” slipped those roofies into that girl’s drink.
Jon: You’ll never let that go, will you Anna? It was one time, and you woke up after a few hours. No one likes a moaner. You know, just because there are a lot of stupid people doesn’t make all the stupid people right. Clubs are noisy, sweaty, pointless wastes of time and money. Can anyone actually remember having a good night out? I know I can’t, and therefore I assume neither can anyone else.
You know when you’re driving through Donnybrook on a Tuesday night, and you see all the whorish twelve-year-olds and infantile boys acting up while waiting for the Wez to open? You know how you cringe, how you feel ashamed on their behalf? That’s how the rest of the world feels when they see you out. Put away your tiny dresses and six-inch heels; put away your hair gel and that ‘funky’ hoody you got in Topman. Evolve.