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Manchester is unrecognisable now from the city they nicknamed 'Gunchester' Manchester is unrecognisable now from the city they nicknamed 'Gunchester'
(35 minutes later)
A few weeks ago, in the Manchester record shop Eastern Bloc, I fell into conversation with a couple of veteran ravers and the young kid serving behind the counter. Basically, the old guard were telling the new generation: you've never had it so good or so safe. As we collectively reeled off our clubland war stories, a litany of fleeing from CS gas attacks, stabbings, gang fights and rumoured shootings in now long-gone venues – Home, PSV, Konspiracy, the Haçienda – this young lad just smiled, in an indulgent way, while probably wondering, what are these old fellas talking about?A few weeks ago, in the Manchester record shop Eastern Bloc, I fell into conversation with a couple of veteran ravers and the young kid serving behind the counter. Basically, the old guard were telling the new generation: you've never had it so good or so safe. As we collectively reeled off our clubland war stories, a litany of fleeing from CS gas attacks, stabbings, gang fights and rumoured shootings in now long-gone venues – Home, PSV, Konspiracy, the Haçienda – this young lad just smiled, in an indulgent way, while probably wondering, what are these old fellas talking about?
Little wonder he was bemused, because, in 2014, Manchester is unrecognisable from the city that, in the mid-1990s, acquired the nickname "Gunchester". Back then, going out in Manchester after dark, you did often feel as if you were taking your life in your hands. During one memorable period, a club night I was running was shut down by the police after a gang of lads (some apparently out on licence) rushed the door, while in the same venue barely a year before, in the middle of a free-flowing brawl, someone poured petrol down the stairs and threatened to set it alight. All of this, moreover, took place in what was regarded as the relatively benign gay village. As I said to a mate recently, as we were stood outside Soup Kitchen around 3am having a fag – or was it Kraak, Gorilla, the Warehouse Project, or any of the other club venues where, today, I don't feel even an iota of threat? – "Why in god's name did we keep going out? What were we thinking?" Little wonder he was bemused, because, in 2014, Manchester is unrecognisable from the city that, in the mid-1990s, acquired the nickname "Gunchester". Back then, going out in Manchester after dark, you did often feel as if you were taking your life in your hands. During one memorable period, a club night I was running was shut down by the police after a gang of lads (some apparently out on licence) rushed the door. This was at the same venue where, barely a year before, in the middle of a free-flowing brawl, someone poured petrol down the stairs and threatened to set it alight. All of this, you will note, took place in what was regarded as the relatively benign gay village. As I said to a mate recently, as we were stood outside Soup Kitchen around 3am having a fag – or was it Kraak, Gorilla, the Warehouse Project, or any of the other club venues where, today, I don't feel even an iota of threat? – "Why in god's name did we keep going out? What were we thinking?"
All of which makes this week's statement from Inspector Ian Hanson, chairman of the Greater Manchester Police Federation, that he feels it is "too dangerous" to socialise in Manchester past midnight, bizarre. He's 47 – you would expect him to remember the bad old days in central Manchester – when you certainly never saw 47- or even 67-year-olds coming out of bars or restaurants around midnight; or catching the last tram home at 1am, as I regularly do now. But perhaps he was doing other things in his youth. In which case, I can understand why he can't see how radically Manchester has changed.All of which makes this week's statement from Inspector Ian Hanson, chairman of the Greater Manchester Police Federation, that he feels it is "too dangerous" to socialise in Manchester past midnight, bizarre. He's 47 – you would expect him to remember the bad old days in central Manchester – when you certainly never saw 47- or even 67-year-olds coming out of bars or restaurants around midnight; or catching the last tram home at 1am, as I regularly do now. But perhaps he was doing other things in his youth. In which case, I can understand why he can't see how radically Manchester has changed.
I am not stupid. I still see some aggro on Manchester's streets, as you would in any UK city. Wherever you get a large mass of people out late and drinking heavily, there will be crime. I am sure Hanson could back his argument up with statistics (although, this report from the office of the Greater Manchester police and crime commissioner states that, across the wider borough of Manchester, violent crime against the person is going down). And it is undeniable that, periodically, certain areas of the city centre flare up as well-known trouble hotspots. It used to be Peter Street before Brewdog and the hip burger joint Almost Famous moved in and the area sorted its act out; and, last year, the Manchester Evening News took this potshot at the Printworks, a sprawling complex of nightlife venues.I am not stupid. I still see some aggro on Manchester's streets, as you would in any UK city. Wherever you get a large mass of people out late and drinking heavily, there will be crime. I am sure Hanson could back his argument up with statistics (although, this report from the office of the Greater Manchester police and crime commissioner states that, across the wider borough of Manchester, violent crime against the person is going down). And it is undeniable that, periodically, certain areas of the city centre flare up as well-known trouble hotspots. It used to be Peter Street before Brewdog and the hip burger joint Almost Famous moved in and the area sorted its act out; and, last year, the Manchester Evening News took this potshot at the Printworks, a sprawling complex of nightlife venues.
However, like any overview of city-centre crime trends, such reporting tends to lack a crucial wider context. Manchester's visitor numbers are soaring, with thousands and thousands of people pouring into the centre every weekend. Until someone gets a verifiable handle on those numbers, how can you hope to get a clear picture of how – in local parlance – "rough" or not Manchester really is? The Printworks, for instance, claims it has eight million visitors a year, yet, according to that MEN report, only 126 antisocial offences were recorded in and around it in the 10 months leading up to April 2013.However, like any overview of city-centre crime trends, such reporting tends to lack a crucial wider context. Manchester's visitor numbers are soaring, with thousands and thousands of people pouring into the centre every weekend. Until someone gets a verifiable handle on those numbers, how can you hope to get a clear picture of how – in local parlance – "rough" or not Manchester really is? The Printworks, for instance, claims it has eight million visitors a year, yet, according to that MEN report, only 126 antisocial offences were recorded in and around it in the 10 months leading up to April 2013.
That doesn't sound particularly threatening to me. But, as I say, without thorough analysis, all we can go on is how the city feels and, from my 20-year perspective of drinking, gig-going and clubbing in Manchester (had I policed it over that period, I would naturally be more jaded), it has never felt more peaceful. Hanson may have a valid argument as to why Greater Manchester police numbers shouldn't be cut, but I would prefer he didn't make it by scaremongering about Manchester's nightlife. Manchester raves on and, broadly, its bars and clubs have never felt safer.That doesn't sound particularly threatening to me. But, as I say, without thorough analysis, all we can go on is how the city feels and, from my 20-year perspective of drinking, gig-going and clubbing in Manchester (had I policed it over that period, I would naturally be more jaded), it has never felt more peaceful. Hanson may have a valid argument as to why Greater Manchester police numbers shouldn't be cut, but I would prefer he didn't make it by scaremongering about Manchester's nightlife. Manchester raves on and, broadly, its bars and clubs have never felt safer.