Doing a yardie on your 21st is one of those delightful gems of tradition that still brings a tear to my eye. Watching young third years, year after year, continue to fuck themselves up in the name of a good Instagram caption, well, it’s heart-warming really. And everyone says first years are the dumb ones. A yardie is hard, and not a light undertaking. But, much like getting a matching couple tattoo, texting your ex, or the pull out method, you beautiful bastards are going do to it regardless of common sense. I love you all.
Doing a yardie is about family, trust, and most of all, a fuck ton of alcohol. You want to aim to get this down in around 3 minutes - anything else and it gets a bit hard to watch. A slow chugger is like a dying childhood pet no one’s quite sure when to put out of misery. It’s comparable to sex: the faster, the better. Make it under a minute and your vomit won’t be the only thing that’s wet and gagging for it.
Pick your beer carefully. You’re almost definitely going to throw this sucker up, so it’s best not to go for a beer that you have a particular attachment to, for fear of forever ruining the taste of that sweet nectar. Double Browns are a good bet, because no one actually likes them (you heard me), with Ranfurly Draught and Southern Gold also strong contenders.
Much like anything in life that’s a bit adventurous, from anal to acid, preparation is key when it comes to a yardie. If you just rock up and start the show, you will shit on a dick. I can 100% guarantee that. Make sure to pour your beer the night before, so it’s flat and lukewarm on the big day. This will make chugging the poor rascal a hell of a lot easier. Honestly this shouldn’t be a big ask, as I expect the night before you should be up and preparing for the party anyway. I don’t want another bland rugby club with some gold balloon 21 shit, Sarah. If I’m turning up there better be some fucking party bags and at least a little bit of MDMA to make the speeches go down easier.
With beer as flat and lukewarm as your boyfriend’s personality (honestly I don’t understand why you keep inviting him to brunch, Sarah), it’s time to get groovy. Now is the time, after 21 years of life, to hopefully have at least one good friend. They’ll do the honour of holding the yard glass whilst you baptise yourself anew with the warm wash of alcohol. The friend-of-honour should turn the glass as you drink, in order to avoid mass spillage and casualty. Now sit back and chug, you’ve done all you can. Congratulations, you’ve made it to 21. Happy birthday, my princes and princesses. Oh, and bonus points if you chunder next to your grandparents.