The Mancunion

Britain's biggest student newspaper

Club: Regression Sessions

A night about embracing your inner child, in an environment which is a parent’s worst nightmare


24th of October

Antwerp Mansion

A Regression Sessions night and Antwerp Mansion should, in theory, go hand in hand. “We have a house, garage and drum and bass-focused night with a fun gimmick where mad ravers get to revel in the delights of their childhood,” “We have a dilapidated mansion-cum-sordid wonderland, hidden in one of the coolest party cities in the UK.”

“Let’s get married and never split up.”

However, when a night advertises ball pits, retro videogames and bouncy castles, it’s bound to appeal to more than the average Antwerp-goer. When offering out additional press passes, this is precisely what happened and three very different experiences were had as a result.


The one who was too sober: Wow, this place is cool… ew what did I just step in? Well it’s certainly not Tiger Tiger, I like it, it’s got character. Oh, you have to slot the toilet door in place. I think I might leave with Chlamydia without any of the fun of contracting it.

Upstairs to the bouncy castle? Sick. Wow, that does not exactly slot elegantly in to its surroundings. Do I have to take my shoes off? I would, but this place is a splinter mine field. Oh it’s burst. Case in point I guess. Well that’s the bouncy castle written off at half 12, time to get one of those balloon hats. The lights are on in this room and there’s queuing. God everyone around me sucks. They’ve run out of balloons? Fuck it, I’m leaving.


The one who was too wasted: I was promised Jenga and Mario Kart and piñatas and I want them all and I want them now. One N64 in the foyer? Is that it? Where the fuck is all the other stuff? They are playing some classic tunes up here. Why is that person bobbing up and down at blow job level? Oh give us a go on that space hopper mate! Where did you get your face painted? Downstairs? Sick. What you’ve finished? But it’s only half one! I’ll politely explain to this gentleman the reasons that he must be mistaken.

Urgh, they’re playing house down here, I’m not in this vibe at all. Everyone’s dancing with their eyes closed, but there is a distinct lack of groping. Maybe there’s more to this genre than I thought. Really aggressive drum and bass upstairs you say? Yes please.


The one with an enhanced sense of reality: This ball pit is literally the best thing I’ve ever experienced. How long were we queuing for? I don’t even care, I just regret that I spent any of the rest of my life in places other than soft play areas. When you think about it, drum and bass is just a very elaborate childcare scheme for drunk people. I’ll stay down here where it’s warm and bassy.

Is that a woman in a light-up bikini doing fire eating? I didn’t think I’d had that much. Is she now stripping and spanking a dwarf that they’ve dressed as a demon baby? I can’t have had that much, because even in my state, that’s one of the most offensive things I’ve ever seen.


At times, RS felt like an ill-prepared fairground and given the price of the ticket, I wouldn’t recommend it if the gimmicks are your main draw. But everyone could agree on one thing. Ball pits are the fucking best.