Returning to Selly Oak's most iconic student bar, 'Circo' as a graduate

A graduate and another graduate walk into a student bar... ouch!

Not a punchline, just an embarrassing mental image of what we put ourselves through, two years after graduating xx #notajokejustafact

If you are University of Birmingham alum, there's a high chance that your body consists of:

• 70% VK (the correct flavour, nonetheless)
• 20% Rooster's Chicken (Number 7 Greg's Meal to be precise)
• And, crucially, 10% Circo club

Nestled in-between Selly Oak's fistfuls of fried chicken eateries and bubble tea shops, there lies a special sweatbox that has the Birmingham student population in a chokehold. Circo. 

Circo is Selly Oak's most iconic student bar. It offers everything that a student bar should: the drinks are dirt cheap (Pounded Mondays didn't get its title from nowhere) and there's always a drinks deal knocking about, the toilets are a battlefield and the queue full of crop tops and Adidas Sambas goes on and on... and on.

I would say Selly Oak residents have an even larger chunk than 10% Circo real estate in them, as if you've ever had the (dis)pleasure of attending Circo, you know that half of your soul gets left behind on the sweat-drenched walls and ceilings- my DNA in Circo's infrastructure <3. Before returning to Circo, I asked some alum to sum-up Circo and the overwhelming responses were variations of, 'wet walls' and 'SWEAT'. 

Memories of Circo

For the majority of us who turned 18 during the pits of lockdown, this local student bar would be our first taste of clubbing. It was 2021, bars had slowly started re-opening for sit-down only events, and Circo was first on our hit list.  We guzzled slushy cocktails and shots of tequila rose, shouted conversation across both ours and neighbouring tables over booming music. It was a taste of the future. But inside the actual building lay the vacant wooden bar, a decaying pool table and a cramped dancefloor, all barren in a a vegetative state- it was screaming for the pounding of hundreds of Nike Air Forces to hit it once more. But not for another year, my sweet Circo. 

Older students' stories of £1 drinks at Pounded Mondays, DJ Joe Jaxon, the winding queue that reached Jhoots pharmacy and the militant toilet ladies all felt more like folklore than reality to me. But I was ready to experience it one day. And by second year, that day (and every Monday and Friday night for the rest of term) had come.

2022

2025

We frequented Circo every Monday and Friday. It was love's young dream. Circo nights were full of possibility and a whole lot of hair gel- the ammunition needed to prepare for the sweatiest night out of the week. I'd bump into old friends, drink countless VKs and dance my socks off until the lights came on. We set alarms for 9pm, halted the pres and sprinted down Tiverton Road, praying that the queue had not yet reached ChickKing- a sign that they were about to start longing out the line and charging for post 10pm entry. We were prepared with our 'queue juice'- a toxic mix of squadka in a Tesco bottle which would typically end up being glugged in a panic when we reached the Bristol Road bus stop. And down the line, hundreds of students were pulling the same routine.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules, the Circo toilet door remix 

Walking into Circo was always a powerful experience. The boys taking turns on the outdoor punching machine, the intense wave of instant heat that blasted you upon arrival and the gaggles sat in booths waiting for the dance floor to busy up. We were always the first instigators and the last stragglers on the danzflur - not only did it give us a chance to pre-request songs to the DJ,  but it also guaranteed a space on the stage. The stage was a raised platform off the dancefloor where you had a birds eye view of everyone, and crucially, provided a respite from the intense meat market of closely-packed heated bodies below.  

Circo truly was the everyman club. Come rain or shine, big event or last-ditch attempt at a spontaneous night out, some of our best uni nights happened at Circo.

Vks are Circo's ultimate sex symbol xxxx

A devastating mark on my digital footprint x

Dream home must include!

Who knew that VKs were to become second nature once I hit uni. Sure, VKs were the go-to drink at UoB's Fab and Fresh nights and the star of Bristol Road's Uni Superstore, but this fruity alcopop only truly came alive whilst quenching your thirst in the blistering pits of Circo. It's a drink that both bonds, and breaks- I remember one of my friends getting lobbed smack bang on the head with a (glass) bottle of VK and having to go to A&E. I think they only serve plastic bottles now..

A little something to take the VK edge off x

Now, two years knee deep in the passenger seat of graduate life, ordering VKs without a blink of an eye, or a flash of an ID would feel seminal for my teeny-bopper self. And if anything, slightly disappointing- I thought graduates were meant to get sloshed on something classy and mature like martinis- not essentially vodka infused J20). But stood in the pits of Circo as a 23 year old, surrounded by uni students who were born in 2007, you have to be seen with a VK in hand-it's the ultimate Circo accessory. Blend in like the sheep you are, make yourself as unassuming as possible.

Drinking a VK in any other bar might be considered infantile and naff, but when becoming a UoB student, John Lewis should add it to their 'Uni Essentials Shopping List'. Being a graduate is synonymous with being a sophisticated individual with a mature flavour pallet..so I ordered a black cherry VK (as well as my classic 'green flavour'). True decadence.However, we all agreed that after 2 VKs, we felt like our teeth were going to fall out. Back to the pints it was. We still enjoyed the easy-drinking, upper of a VK, but concluded that the glucose novelty had worn off. We would all rather dance with a pint or a vodka cran in hand-it was a quicker, more delicious way to produce the same effect (just without the 6am shakes and sugar coated teeth). Omds... had we grown up? 

VK rating: 3/5

A delicious taste of nostalgia, but too sweet for our mature palette. Don't know how we graduated with any teeth left?! 

You, me and VK 🩷

Orange VK tastes like sin. If the sweaty walls of Circo were liquidised and bottled, this would be the horror show result.

Music maketh the Circo 

One sure-fire thing about Circo is that the music will be reliable, silly fun. Not as infuriating as the wedding-DJ songs that my post-uni London haunt, Infernos plays every Saturday, and nowhere near the intense house playing in the East-London bars that I dream of making my local. Just good, reliable, (somewhat predictable) floor-filling songs. In our days of Circo, resident DJ, Joe Jaxon was an integral part of the furniture. Whilst spinning some absolute bangers, there was also quite a lot of mash... Jaxon had a tendency to repeat the same roster of songs every night- it got somewhat fatiguing. UoB's national anthems Feed them to the Lions and that Big City Life remix were as certain as chaining cigs in the Circo beer garden- inevitable. However, he was partial to a song request, acting as the voice for the student generation, and the face of Selly Oak nightlife. Gorra respect it.

 

Only this time, there was no sign of Joe Jaxon, but one of our very own!

The uni DJ-to-professional DJ pipeline hates to see DJ RD coming. From buying a cheap set of decks during third year, to carting a massive speaker down Bristol Road after buying it off Facebook and DJing at all of our uni pres, our pal Rosie had come full circle, and was spinning at the very club that we used to dance at weekly. 

Seeing our uni pal DJ in a professional setting and play to a crowd that feasted off of every mix was sensational. I almost felt jealous that this fresh batch of students got to experience this as their default Circo experience. 

Not only was it a full-circle moment to see our talented pal playing for the same students that we once were, but it signified changing times. During uni, we had always vetted for more student DJs to play at student nights. Now Circo has been given the new lease of life that it deserved, and it sounds so good for it. It can be the face and ears of students. Plus, being friends of the DJ had its perks that we only dreamed of as students: we got in straight away, smugly walking past the already chockabloka line that had formed before 9pm, our song requests were played and we got to put our jackets behind the decks- these things matter when you no longer live 2 mins away.

Circo DJ rating: 5000/5

DJ Joe Jax was my ride or die. But DJ RD is the people's princess!!!

Outsider, looking in

Whilst knowing the DJ certainly had its perks, it did heighten the detached feeling that came over me. From being allowed access to the back room, to skipping the queue-it was signifying that I wasn't part of it anymore. We were officially the outsiders, looking in. No more stampedes from the queue surge squishing you against fellow students and no more panic drinking your Tesco-bottled journey juice in the line. All the things that make a Circo veteran. 

We were separate now. 

Adding to this sense of detachment, was the fact that the only people we only knew there, were each other. Part of the joy of student-only nights is the bumping into people you know; the neighbours and old flatmates to the situationships and campus crushes- it was always at the core of a Circo experience. Only this time, we faced a crowd of unfamiliar (baby) faces. It's mad that a 18 year old can look that much younger than a 23 year old, but it didn't do any favours for the hag narrative. This wasn't helped by my dear friend asking every boy we encountered, 'are yOU alSO a FrEshER', in a bid of trickery and tomfoolery. She stopped when a doe-eyed boy told her that nobody says ‘fresher’ anymore and her fresher roleplay cover was blown. 

The stage has been replaced with a glorified Gogglebox set up. Rest in power sweet laminate x

And to make matters worse, the stage was no longer! But we soon discovered that the need for this viewing platform disspears when there are only four of you to look out for, and no campus crush to try and locate.

Closure or close-ughhhh?

If I had gone back to Circo the Autumn after graduating, this outsider-looking-in feeling would've upset me much more than it did now. For such an unassuming place to make core memories, a lot of heightened uni memories certainly unfolded in those 4 dripping walls.  I took a long time to get over the fact that I no longer belonged to UoB. UoB belonged to me and that chapter of my life, but I, not to it. Call it nostalgia, call it lack of closure- I was not ready. 

But two years on, I realised that I was actually ok with it. 

The nostalgia had evolved into an exciting variant and there was a new-found liberation in being an outsider now. I didn't have to worry about certain people being there and ruining the night and we could be as stupid as we wanted- dancing revoltingly and chatting smack to strangers, all encouraged by this new sense of anonymity. Ultimately, we had outgrown it. You can't stay a student forever. And thank God. We had all moved on. 

Now being working girls, with increased independence and funds, our friendship group of 4 (that spans London and Birmingham) have a whole new pot to piss in when it comes to new nights out. This means that every other weekend of shared custody (between London and Birmingham), we explore new, fun places to go in our cities. Stuck in the Selly bubble as students, we never properly explored the Birmingham scene, but now the likes of the Gay Village's Village Underground and the Jewellery Quarter's Button Factory and Actress and Bishop are new found faves.

POV: you take ur vein out for 3 for 10 drinks xx

Once you leave the student bubble, you start to seeing it for what it is- an intimate, yet isolated subculture characterised by an incestuous, village-mentality bubble, that exclusively houses 18-22 year olds. But when you’re out of the bubble, and you’re a few years older, you start to feel like the old man at the bar, ordering shots for young girls. Being a student is a little like playing mums and dads- a dress rehearsal for young adulthood. 

It’s only once you leave the bubble, do you truly get to experience your 20s in the real world.  

Honourable standouts:

Events: Circo has done a real number in terms of monopolizing the best spot in Selly Oak. They don't just do student club nights anymore, but host a variety of other events like the Sip and Paint nights that were advertised all over the shop. You really could organise your calendar around Circo.

Giveaways: They've also become hype-beasts and have made Circo merchandise. Who would buy that? you might ask. Well turns out nobody needs to buy them, they're giving them out as part of the Friday night routine. There was a count down to the 't-shirt drop', confetti cannons flew and an employee stood chucking out a job lot of Circo t-shirts. The people were going crazy for them. Inflatable microphones and novelty glasses were also being thrust into our hands, which only added to the school disco allegations.

Spin the Wheel: My favourite new addition, was the introduction of their 'Spin the Wheel' game. All my uni pals know how much I love making a game for our night out pres, and as it turns out, as does Circo. A huge, multi-coloured Wheel greeted us at the door, scribbled with several dares and drink forefits. We cordially queued up, and each won a Fireball shot, as well as a dare to text your ex. Not today Circo. But we did enjoy the free shots!!!

Over all, returning to Circo was an absolute treat for the sentiment in me. A time was had! But once you have two feet firmly out of the student door, and realise that tectonic plates won't move and shake upon your return, it's a treat best left in the past. Let the new generation enjoy their rightful sweatbox and we'll stick to ventures new. Circo 4ever and always in our hearts xxxx