We Paired a Politics Society With a Film Society and Let the Awkwardness Settle

The pitch was simple and slightly reckless. Take two LSE societies with almost nothing in common, introduce their committees by email, give them a shared room and a £40 snack budget, and ask them to co-host a social. No formal agenda. No networking bingo. Just an evening where neither side knew quite what they were walking into.

We called it a society blind date. Not romantic, obviously. The match was between a politics society and a film society, which we will call PoliticsSoc and FilmSoc to spare everyone's blushes. One had a reputation for big, formal events. The other was smaller, cosier and slightly suspicious of anything with a sign-in sheet.

This is what happened, awkward bits included.

The Setup: Two Societies, One Bad November Idea

We matched them using a short form. Each committee listed its size, preferred night, budget, ideal vibe and dealbreakers. PoliticsSoc said it wanted something 'relaxed but structured'. FilmSoc said 'no forced networking'. We ignored the warning signs and paired them anyway.

They agreed on a Tuesday in November 2026, 7pm to 8.30pm, in a bookable common room. Each committee nominated one host. They split the jobs: PoliticsSoc handled the room and the sign-in sheet, FilmSoc handled snacks and a playlist. The group chat was created forty-eight hours before the event. Nobody knew quite how many people would turn up.

7:02pm: The First Ten Minutes Are Always Weird

People arrived in the usual way: a few early, a few in pairs, one person who had clearly come because a friend had promised it would be quick. Name stickers helped. PoliticsSoc members asked polite questions about what FilmSoc actually did. FilmSoc members asked whether there would be a quiz.

There was no quiz. There were crisps, lemonade and a pile of paper. The hosts had been told to prepare one icebreaker each. PoliticsSoc chose 'pitch a policy in thirty seconds'. FilmSoc chose 'describe your favourite film badly'. For ten minutes, the room hovered between those two ideas like a bad first date trying to choose a restaurant.

Then someone pitched a policy about bus routes and someone else described a film as 'a man argues with a beach'. The room laughed. The awkwardness did not vanish, but it cracked.

7:30pm: The Game That Actually Worked

The hosts put people into mixed teams and gave them one task: pitch a film about a campus issue. Any issue. Any genre. Two minutes to prepare, one minute to perform.

One team pitched a thriller about the library at 3am. Another did a rom-com about a group chat that would not stop replying. A third did a mockumentary about a committee meeting that could have been an email. The politics people brought structure. The film people brought silliness. Together, they made something that neither society would have made alone.

That was the first surprise: the format did not need to be polished. It needed to be specific enough that people had something to do with their hands and their attention.

8:10pm: The Surprises

FilmSoc had a better turnout than expected. PoliticsSoc had members who knew more about cinema than they let on. One person exchanged numbers with someone from the other society to organise a study session. Another left early, which is fine. Not every event is for every member.

The committee workload was noticeably lighter. One society booked the room. The other bought snacks. Neither had to invent a whole evening alone. That is the quiet benefit of cross-society collabs: the work is shared, but the room feels bigger.

The only real wobble was the photo. A committee member tried to gather everyone for a group shot and half the room scattered. Lesson learned: if you want a photo, take it in the first twenty minutes, before people have settled into conversations.

What We Learned

First, match on logistics, not vibes. Two societies can have wildly different personalities and still run a good event if they agree on the night, the venue and the budget. Second, keep it short. Ninety minutes is enough for a first date. Third, give each society one clear job so nobody feels like a guest in their own event.

Fourth, do not force 'networking'. The best conversations happened during the game and afterwards, not during a structured introductions round. Fifth, have a quiet corner. Some people need a break from a room full of new faces. Sixth, debrief afterwards. Ask both committees what worked and what they would change before you promise to make it a regular thing.

Your 2026 Blind Date Checklist

Before the event: swap committee contacts, agree a budget, pick a neutral venue and decide who is responsible for what. Send a short brief to both committees. Set a sign-up form so you have a rough idea of numbers. Check room booking rules and accessibility. Agree a photo policy.

During the event: put name stickers by the door, start with one low-stakes game, keep the first half hour structured and the second half loose. Have snacks that do not require plates. Take photos early. Make it easy for people to leave without feeling rude.

After the event: send a one-question feedback poll, thank the hosts, and write down what you would change. Do not judge success by whether everyone became best friends. Judge it by whether people stayed longer than they planned and whether either society would do it again.

Would We Do It Again?

Yes, with better biscuits and a firmer photo plan. The blind date format is not a magic fix for every society, and not every pairing will work. But it is a low-risk way to broaden membership, share the load and make the city feel a little smaller. For two societies with nothing in common, that is a pretty good first date.