Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll: the real Ziggy’s revealed
No one wants to be sober at Ziggy’s. Nicky Woolf does the unthinkable and goes behind the scenes to expose the debauchery
I am a fly-on-the-wall observer in the downstairs bar of Ziggy’s nightclub on Micklegate. Generally accepted to be the club night not to miss, Ziggy’s on a Wednesday is a university institution; love it or hate it, you can’t deny that your time at the University of York is not complete until you have done shots of sambuca with the rugby players in the champagne room, grinded with a randomer on the lower dance floor, strawpedo-ed with a stranger in bunny-ears at the lower bar where the hockey players hang out or play-fought with JR the bouncer.
My mission here - and the reason that, against the most sacred student doctrine of Ziggy’s, I am almost entirely sober - is that I want to find out what makes this place tick. Why is it the institution that it is? Who is behind the ultimate venue for sports socials and debauchery? What can go right, and what can go wrong?
A Wednesday night at Ziggy’s comes together from a thousand different beginnings. For S, a forward on the Rugby 2nds, his night begins almost as soon as his afternoon match is finished. S takes me through a typical Wednesday evening’s pre-drinking. “First to the Deramore, meet the opposing team, have some food and a pint, then home to get dressed according to that night’s social, meet up again in 1331, followed by Judges’, then some of us go to Priory, end up in the Acorn after having had…” S pauses for a brief moment’s thought, “4 to 6 pints at 1331, 2 to 3 pints at Judges, maybe 3, 4 or 5 pints after that. Some people go for trebles in Nag’s, some people go to the Maltings…” When asked if he thought this level of binge-drinking is worrying, however, his answer is a categorical No. “I’m sure we drink no more than the other socials, and after all, you only live once. It’s only some fun, and it’s the student life!”
‘You will stand out at Ziggy’s if you’re not dressed as a soldier, superhero, Playboy bunny or, controversially, wife beater’
It isn’t just the sports teams for whom Ziggy’s is a permanent weekly fixture. Wednesday night is an integral part of the week for a large swathe of students. For girls, I am reliably informed, the process begins at around 6pm with the most important decision of the whole night - what to wear. Fancy dress is the norm - you will stand out at Ziggy’s if you are not dressed as a soldier, superhero, Playboy bunny, woman or even, controversially, ‘wife beater.’ Often people make costumes with astonishing creativity; some of the best I have witnessed include a head-to-toe fur suit, a cardboard tank costume and a Cleopatra outfit fabricated entirely from a sheet of gold cloth (which on a previous social had served as a superhero’s cape), pins and “a lot of tit-tape.”
At around 9pm, when various socials and sports teams are getting into their stride at their chosen York drinking hole, Steve Rogers arrives at Ziggy’s. As General Manager, it is his job to see that every ingredient of a Wednesday night is present and correct, and that everyone’s night goes without a hitch. Steve is expecting a busy night - up to 700 students passing through the doors in about four hours. He and the owner, Andrew Elliott, have been running a student night at Ziggy’s for over 20 years now, and have no plans to change. They are slightly worried about this year’s crowd of students, however, as there has been a recent problem with vandalism, but he doesn’t consider the damage to be malicious: “It’s all mindless idiocy, it’s a lot of hassle.” A student punched out an expensive light fitting on a previous Wednesday but was caught on camera and offered to pay the damages rather than face police proceedings. Steve and Andrew seem to prefer working problems out with students face-to-face, and are only too happy to forgive and forget drunken bad behaviour - when apologised to - instead of enforcing a permanent ban.
At 9:45pm JR, commonly known as to students ‘Big John’, arrives. He and fellow doormen Pete, James and Rob walk into the office together. They don walkie-talkies and headsets. JR and the team are not expecting much trouble tonight. He suspects that if anyone has to be ejected it will be for over-enthusiastic amorousness by the fire escape, rather than belligerence. Sitting by the fire in the front room that serves as the nerve centre of the club, I ask Steve about the funniest story he has to tell from working at Ziggy’s. “I don’t know, really,” he says, then pauses for thought. “We catch a lot of ‘em having sex. Couples who think there’s no camera there, that we can’t see them right outside the office on the office wall, or down the fire escapes.” Intrigued, I ask how often this happens. “Well, quite a lot,” he answers with a grin, then addresses JR: “You caught one - that girl on t’fire escape, didn’t you?” JR’s only reply is a wide toothy grin.
I ask what the procedure is for this, and am greatly amused by the answer. “Well,” Steve says, with the gleeful air of someone sharing an intimate joke, “if I see ‘em on camera, I’ll send them”. He waves at the doormen, who are still checking their walkie-talkies, and continues: “I’ll watch ‘em, till they go that far that they can’t stop, then I’ll send a doorman round and say ‘Wait there,’ on the radio, and then I’ll say ‘Right! Go and tap him on the shoulder now!’” He pauses for effect, then goes on, “He’ll jump up and…” Steve makes a whistling noise and an energetic gesture conveying mid-coital surprise. “She’ll jump up and…” He repeats the gesture even more dramatically. “Then they’ll come out, and she’ll be bright red, and everyone’ll give ‘em a round of applause. She’ll be red as hell and hiding her face. He’ll be coming out cheering!” He smiles mischievously. “We get quite a few of those.”
On the dot of 10pm, Steve gives the nod to begin letting people in. With a triumphant “Yes! I’m the first into Ziggy’s!” followed almost instantaneously by an optimistic “Do I get a prize?”, the first of the night’s many punters stride towards the bar. I watch as a second-year student pleads to be let in despite his obvious and extreme intoxication; the procedure is to ask him to walk a straight line down the hill towards the Artful Dodger and back again, a test that he fails miserably.
“We catch a lot of ‘em having sex. Couples who think there’s no camera there, that we can’t see them down the fire escapes”
By 11pm, the club has reached full capacity and the night is progressing well. An example of what can go wrong presents itself at around midnight. A second-year has been punched on the dancefloor, and blood is streaming from a gash above his left eye. He describes his attacker and JR is dispatched to find him. While Steve dresses the wound, I ask what other dangers there are, apart from drunken violence. Steve thinks for a while, then says “Had one girl, when we had glass tables in there.” He points towards the champagne room, then looks at Andrew and grins, “she was… biggish. She sat on one of ‘em. How stupid’s that? She went through it. And I wasn’t putting a plaster on her arse, so I made her mate do it. She went straight through the table!” “She was quite big,” Andrew confirms, in a deadpan tone but with a twinkle in his eye.
Anecdotes aside, Steve becomes more serious. “It’s all idiocy. No common sense. We’ve found that a lot with students - they’re good at what they do, or they wouldn’t be at uni - but when it comes to common sense, a lot of it’s limited. And first-years, who’ve only just left home, they haven’t a clue how to handle themselves - they’re suddenly let free.”
At this point, JR enters with the aforementioned attacker. He is very drunk, and is unceremoniously ejected from the premises. As they do so, I ask Steve if they have any problems with drugs. “There’s a drug problem everywhere,” he says sagely. “Um, student-wise, not really, no, we don’t get great problems. The odd smell of cannabis, which isn’t that serious, considering they’re not idiots. I don’t throw them out. It’s not an aggressive drug, anyway. We just say ‘Not in here, if you don’t mind. Put it out’ and leave it at that. If they’re smoking it persistently, we’ll ask them to leave.” He shifts uncomfortably as I ask about more dangerous drugs, such as ecstasy. “Other drugs, they usually take before they come in. They’ll take pills in the queue and there’s very little we can do about that. We watch on the cameras and we’ll say ‘Yeah, he’s been dancing all night – what’s he been drinking? Just water?’” He pauses. “You getting me?”
Between 1am and 2am, the club begins to empty. As the students begin to leave in dribs and drabs, I ask Steve and Andrew what the best times for them are working at Ziggy’s. Steve, with characteristic sarcasm, answers first: “About two o’clock when we shut and go home…” After a brief chuckle, Andrew gives me an answer that sums up his management style, and his business aims. “The best times? When everything’s gone nice, we’ve had a great night – hassle free – and everybody’s gone out saying they’ve had a great time, that they’ve had a bit of a laugh. And that happens,” he concludes happily, “quite a lot.”
