A Night at Superbull: Lincoln’s Most Chaotic Rite of Passage (ft. a Surprise Ending at Cloud 9)

There’s a moment in every Lincoln student’s life when you know you’ve truly settled into uni life. For some, it’s handing in your first assignment. For others, it’s cooking your first semi-edible spaghetti bolognese. For me? It was conquering Superbull — the most iconic Thursday night out this city has to offer.

I went last Thursday with the usual crew: Liv (the one who insists on heels and regrets it by midnight), Sam (self-appointed DJ of the pre-drinks), and Jess (who will definitely lose her ID at least twice in the night). We started the night at pre’s in our kitchen in the West Parade area. Someone had the bright idea to invent a “Bull” drinking game — you drink every time someone says “Let’s go Bulling.” (We were three shots down in ten minutes.)

The Bull Experience 🐂

We arrived at Home Lincoln just after 11pm — early by Bull standards but late enough for the queue to already be chaos. The line-up outside looked like a scene from Love Island meets a Year 11 prom reunion. Everyone’s dressed to impress, even though we all know you’ll end up with glitter in your eyebrows and cheesy chips down your top.

Inside? Pure madness. There’s something weirdly comforting about the sticky floors, the £2 Jägerbombs, and the playlist that hasn’t changed since 2014. (Mr. Brightside came on twice. I’m not complaining.) The main room was heaving, so we snuck upstairs for a breather — and by “breather”, I mean vodka lemonade spills and trying to remember the bouncer’s name because he gave us wristbands last week.

Highlights of the night included:

• Someone in a banana costume body-slamming the dance floor.

• Jess accidentally joining a hen party and becoming the unofficial maid of honour.

• Sam attempting to flirt with a girl by comparing her to “a more grounded Dua Lipa.” It didn’t work.

Lowlights? Losing my phone for 40 minutes only to find it in my own bag, and accidentally elbowing someone while dancing to Where Them Girls At.

Enter: Cloud 9 Lincoln (aka, the plot twist)

Now here’s where the night took a turn.

We left Bull at 2:30am, craving air and possibly carbs. The plan was to go home — until Liv spotted a flyer for Cloud 9. None of us had ever been, and in true student fashion, we said: “One more, why not?”

We wandered over, not quite sure what to expect — but honestly? It was vibey. A bit fancier than Bull, with more neon lights and fewer people falling over near the toilets. I wouldn’t say I remember every moment clearly (blame the Jägerbombs), but I do remember the DJ being surprisingly good and the LED ceiling feeling like we were inside a spaceship.

We danced, we laughed, someone definitely cried in the toilet (not naming names), and somehow I ended up with a slice of someone’s garlic bread. It was chaotic. It was unexpected. And it was kind of… great?

The Verdict

Would I go Bulling again? Absolutely. It’s a Lincoln student rite of passage. Would I end my night at Cloud 9 next time? Honestly… maybe. It’s like Bull’s cooler, mysterious cousin — the one you say you’re not into but end up texting at 3am anyway.

And that’s the thing about Lincoln nights out. You never really know where they’ll take you. You start with pre’s and promises to “be home by 1,” and you end up dancing under laser lights with a girl you just met called Shannon who insists she used to ride horses professionally.

So if you’re new to Lincoln, or just haven’t braved a night out yet — get your group together, charge your phone, wear comfy shoes (Liv learned the hard way), and let the night take you where it takes you.

Even if that place ends up being Cloud 9.