It used to be like that as last orders got closer in night clubs in the 90s. Desperately trying to pull whatever is left at the end of the night when absolutely smashed, happy to take what is left as time ran out. Saints are usually the equivalent of the bloke that ends up going for a kebab after missing out but might occasionally pull the fat sweaty bird who has spent all night dancing with her equally vile friends to its raining men and dancing queen being ignored by every other bloke there.