Seven types of people you’ll find in Nightingale Hall

The guide to staying sane, from an ex-resident

Living in Nightingale Hall is not for the faint of heart. Having described herself as “the upper echelons” of campus; Nightingale looks down on the other halls, with an air of self-entitled snobbery. She admits no more than 150 residents, all of whom she kicks out the second the term is through.

When you’re in Nightingale, there are a few crucial tips to understanding the many residents. Being lost in a wilderness of canteen eggs and security guards leaves you little other time to figure out who, or what, you’re up against. But, don’t panic! With this survival guide, you’ll know exactly who to expect to find in Nightingale’s corridors.

The “Daddy will pay for it”

Is that the sweet scent of a useless degree? That’s right ladies and gents, it’s the “Daddy will pay for it”, killing some time at the University of Nottingham.

They got a bit bored of cruising around Puerto Rico on their gap yah, so uni seemed like the next best move. After all, they won’t be working anytime soon, so need to occupy themselves in one way or another.

Oh, and remember, don’t touch their baccy or you’ll hear the dreaded “rahs” echoing throughout the hall.

The midlife Crisis

Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, it’s just a member of UNRUC, dressed up as…well, it’s hard to tell quite what they are. Eagerly, they anticipate the naughtiest night of the week: Wednesday. 

Their outfits are tight, bright and leave little to the imagination. They are permanently pumped, with their speakers blaring, counting down the hours until they can enter Rock City.

Bring out the Rachmaninoff and the own brand Coke, it’s time to dance under the strobe lights and party like it’s 2010! 

With this photo comes a warning from the lads, who fear for the number of babes that will be seduced by their gaze.

The incel

Watch out ladies, it’s the incel. Thought to be the most dangerous creature to walk these halls, the incel can be found crouched in corners, studying their females.

Watch out ladies, it’s the incel. Thought to be the most dangerous creature to walk these halls, the incel can be found crouched in corners, studying their females.

You can hear them stomping through halls and shaking the walls. Repping the merch, they stride through the building; their pumped-up muscles and popping veins wink at you as they pass.

You can hear the crunch of bones as they engulf yet another piece of chicken in the dining halls, leaving nothing to waste. They shake and twitch from protein powder withdrawals.

Even a whisper of the word David and their ears prick up. Spending all of their time in the gym, it would be more beneficial to put their rooms up for rent. 

The ninth year next door

Your neighbour’s been pretty quiet huh? That’s probably because they’re lurking behind that heavy fire door and not making friends – hence why they still live in halls. At night, their raspy inhalations of breath and the tapping of their computer keys can be heard through the walls.

You spend most of the year trying to work out how old they are, and how long they’ve been in there. Perhaps they’ll never leave.

The silly fresh

Silly? Goofy? They’re the whole damn package! And they’re making the most of that first year experience.

In a constant state of hungover, they make their money’s worth of Nightingale brunch, gobbling down powdered eggs which will later make a reappearance. 


AKA, “why have I never seen you outside of the dining hall?” 

Barely awake, you’ve somehow managed to make it to breakfast. Then, boom. You’re under surveillance. It’s the NPC, studying your every move as they spoon-feed porridge into their mouth. Not once do their eyes leave you.

They swallow their food in silence, waiting for you to leave. Do they ever leave? Having never witnessed one outside of the dining hall, I personally cannot comment on this. It will remain one of life’s many secrets.

Recommended articles by this author:

• Do you take the bins out? 20 signs you’re Lenton’s worst housemate

10 things you’ll only understand if you’ve ever lived in Rutland Hall