Drinking killed a student at my uni – I went back 20 years on to see what’s changed

“He punched me,” grunts a woozy young man outside a nightclub, in a green-branded Exeter sports club tie. Another, blood cascading from his nose, retorts: “He head-butted me first!” We’ve heard plenty to suggest that Gen Zs drink less than their parents and are far too consumed by health, phones, financial concerns and the fear of cancellation to get blotto. In the NHS’s 2024 Health Survey for England, 35 per cent of 16-24-year-olds hadn’t had an alcoholic drink in the past year, compared to 27 per cent of 35-44-year-olds. However, a 2026 National Union of Students survey found that 20 per cent of students intentionally get drunk about once a week. For me, like many other Britons, university was a time for copious drinking. Twenty years ago, I was a student at Exeter, and us millennials, the children of lad and ladette culture, who grew up watching frat parties in teen movies, saw drinking as our doorway into adulthood. Plus, pre-crash and pre-exorbitant student fees, many of us had the money for the literal buckets of booze the clubs were pouring. Shorts Shortly into my time at Exeter, a tragic event prompted the university to clamp down on drinking, but I’m afraid to say that I, and plenty of others around me, still drank to excess. To find out if anything’s changed, I returned to the tiny Devonshire city, where 30,000 students comprise a quarter of the population, for its biggest party of the year – freshers’ week. I’m keen to find out if sports societies still hold the same notorious “socials” – weekly events where, in my day, strict drinking diktats ruled. If you didn’t tap your empty glass on your flank before placing it down, you’d have to “bolt” another drink, while everyone chanted “D-I-O” for “down in one”. Once, for a centurion-themed social, we donned white togas (bedsheets), and sank a shot of snakebite, every minute, on the minute, for 100 minutes. I often drank to the point of vomiting, blacking out, and God knows what else. I was in a new city, lacking in confidence, and figured drinking would impress my elders. I needed no encouragement, but in a roomful of roaring women, I got it. Sophie Wilkinson, 20 years ago, on a night out during her degree at Exeter At the end of my first semester, an 18-year-old student, Gavin Britton, was found dead after a golf club initiation. At a later inquest, the coroner recorded death by alcohol poisoning, describing it as “a sad tale of a wasted life”. A university official told us the news at dinner in our halls. It was shocking, but I remember immediately thinking of reasons why it would never happen to me, convincing myself that my drinking was fine. The university introduced an immediate clampdown on sports societies’ drinking culture, which then-Shadow Education Secretary Boris Johnson called a “panic ban”, saying “I think the Athletic Union should get a grip”. I’m afraid I – shamefully – agreed, believing that one awful experience shouldn’t ruin all our fun. In practice, the only difference was that a member of my sports club’s committee would preface each social with “no one has to drink”. We still drank too much, too fast, too often, before stumbling to Timepiece, a club that is still going in Exeter. Thankfully, my return visit suggests things have improved and today’s young people do have a healthier attitude to drinking. The vice captain of a women’s sport club tells me some new rules: “There always has to be a sober option for drinking games, like a shot of lemon juice or a pint of water. You’re not allowed any sort of initiation behaviour, or differentiating between year groups.” She adds: “[Sports societies] are also not allowed to have house parties. I was surprised by how much you’re not allowed to do.” As tempted as I am to return to the nightclub where my own initiation – forced to wear household goods, drink from saucepans and eat disgusting food – reached its nadir, tonight’s event is strictly students only. It’s another improvement on back then, when middle-aged men would turn up at 1am to leer at clumsily teetering girls. However, other students tell me that drinking can be hard to avoid. Along the leafy Hoopern Valley path, where I spent many a night stumbling, I meet Amber, 21, who says: “In my first year it was very much like, ‘If you’re joining pres, you have to do that shot, otherwise you’re not participating,’ and if you pull back you’re called antisocial.” Police Officer Nathan Johnson on patrol during Exeter University freshers’ week (Photo: William Dax/SWNS) Her friend Alex, a 19-year-old first year student, doesn’t drink, and says when he went to a social for a club he’d joined he was encouraged to “chug this!” He refused to, and is unsure about returning. On some sports societies’ social media profiles, committee members seem unafraid to reference alcohol, such as pre-game rituals involving a “VK in the fridge for after” or quipping “advice to freshers – don’t spend all your budget on venoms!” Venoms are a cocktail of vodka, whiskey, alcopop and mixer. By 4pm, I’m chatting to a group of eight lads from my old halls who are heading to a pub to embark on pre-drinks. So far, this week has been “non-stop drinking every single day”, one boy laughs. What about initiations? Another young man tells me that his friend “was put in a room with 50 guys and they were force-fed alcohol until they chundered. If they didn’t yak, they had to keep drinking”. This doesn’t seem to deter any of these boys’ plans to trial for any sports societies. Later that evening, I’m on the high street as students trail towards thumping bars and clubs. Some swig from tinnies or larger bottles of beer and wine. Policemen on patrol remind them that public drinking is now banned on the city centre’s streets, and Police Inspector Nathan Johnson explains to me: “Tonight is all about engaging… we’re saying, ‘Don’t rush your drink, slow it down’ to stop last-minute necking a drink before going into a club.” He says young people “are a lot more confident now” to say no. His level of consideration would’ve been nice in my day. At 9pm, I meet three women’s rugby club members, who had just one drink each at their social. “No one forces you to drink,” one says, and another one says: “It’s easy to avoid drinking if you want to.” Round the corner, three other women’s sports club members, tipsily recording TikToks in outlandish fancy dress, offer to smuggle me into Timepiece, and deny a prolific, revolting rumour I’ve been hearing about their club’s initiation. “I’m far too shy and introverted, I wouldn’t go to socials if they were like that!” Around 10pm, I’m on a packed street of two clubs. There’s Core, which is offering £1.50 Jagerbombs all night, and Fever, where venoms are two for £12. Before joining the queue, a circle of young men gulp down beers, while face-painted women chant until a fresher’s finished her WKD. Jasper, a police dog, and his handler, meeting young people on a night out in Exeter city centre (Photo: William Dax/SWNS) Up the road, I approach the heaving queue – five people deep and 100 feet long – outside Vaults, which used to be a desolate gay bar. One boy says, “I’m too drunk to speak to you,” and his friend earnestly wonders, “What if I run for Prime Minister one day?” They might be under the influence, but they’re thinking ahead. Others are more eager to chat. One fresher approaches me to ask my pronouns. She/her, with a raspy lost voice, tells me: “We’ve seen some people gone, like having to call an ambulance type of s**t, and we’ve seen some people who don’t drink at all.” But she’s not felt any pressure to drink. “I feel like the environment is so good, if someone says ‘no’, it’s like ‘that’s cool!’” In the entire night, I’ve only seen one girl vomit and (less cheerfully) literally no-one kissing. It seems Gen Z students really are better behaved these days. However, at 2am, as Timepiece’s closure looms, the clock seems to have spun back two decades. The route there is zebra-striped with urine, young men in what look like green Exeter sports club ties relieving themselves while barely noticing the young women trying to dodge their flow. Outside the club, more men clatter down the cobbles and chant in public school guttural, nipping at each other’s bums and hugging it out. One young man’s shirt is half ripped off. The young people are piggybacking and whooping and careering around. Save for the haircuts and the girls’ outfits (baggy shirts and mini skirts have been replaced by tiny tops and baggy jeans), it is just like my own uni days. This is when some horseplay goes badly wrong, and blood is drawn. The estate patrol, who attend to students where necessary off campus, are challenging a young man who appears to have inadvertently headbutted his friend. Devon and Cornwall Police are called, and later tell me: “Police were called to Musgrave Row, Exeter, on Monday 18th September at around 2.20am following an altercation between two men. One of the men sustained minor injuries. The man did not wish to pursue a complaint at this time.” I don’t blame students for wanting to drink; alcohol was and is still sold to all adults as the ultimate way to connect. I made lifelong friends while drunk in Exeter. But back then, drinking in moderation was as absurd a prospect as non-alcoholic beer, or complaining about drinking culture. I’d like to think that, if I were starting uni right now, I’d have chosen better, because those choices are available now. On Thursday morning, tired with no hangover, I head to the train station to make my way back home. A sticker on a pole reads, “I experienced the joy of human connection while off my tits”. I’m sure I did, but, thankfully, that was long ago. A University of Exeter spokesperson told The i Paper: “We take the health and wellbeing of our students very seriously and have a number of established initiatives to challenge the perception that alcohol is integral to having a good time at University. All AU and Guild Society Committee mandatory training addresses alcohol awareness, and promotes non-alcohol-related social activities for student clubs and societies. We work with venues and agencies on responsible drinking and licensing campaigns across the city. “The University operates strict codes of conduct that clearly prohibit initiation type activities and/or peer pressure to drink excessively at events, and neither condone nor tolerate this type of behaviour. All clubs and societies have signed a code of conduct in which they have agreed to behave responsibly in this regard; if the heads of clubs/societies are found to be in breach of the code, disciplinary proceedings will be instituted. “We would encourage any students who have experienced or witnessed any such behaviour to use our ‘Support and Report’ tool to report this to the University.”