Call time on the licensing farce
A few days ago, I sat on a hard, uncomfortable wooden bench in a courtroom for two-and-a-half hours. I waited my turn and watched as a stream of licensees or their lawyers stood in turn in front of the Bench, which comprised a chairman and two magistrates. A clerk to the court sat in front, an usher to the side, and a court bailiff to the rear.
Each licensee had to explain why they wanted an extra hour or two to serve alcohol in their establishments, what special occasion merited such amazing deviation, or why this or that group of well-behaved citizens deserved this extraordinary pantomime performed on their behalf.
All this, just for the privilege of being able to serve alcohol in a hall, marquee, tent, garden or field which was not normally licensed.
The justices, unable to conceal their absolute boredom (they had seen the performance twice-weekly for the past five years), listened in turn to the applicant, the magistrates' clerk, then a police officer. These latter two made their comments in the manner of incantations over mystical rites, repeating words they had chanted thousands of times before as if by so doing the occasion was blessed by the God of bureaucracy and the God of having nothing else better to do.
At last, my wish was granted. Alcohol can be served, oh wonder of wonders. Bacchus has been honoured and a group of good citizens who, before the administration of these rites could not be trusted, can now go and do it for a whole extra hour.
It's a load of old cobblers!
That, dear reader, is not my opinion, but that of an experienced licensing law specialist whom I called in the hope he could enlighten me about just what all the performance in licensing courts is trying to achieve. My call was in vain. Despite becoming a licensee 15 years ago, I am still trying to find out the answer.
It is not just a case of an anachronistic set of laws needing an overhaul - if only it were that simple. It is that this system, this institution, is a way of life for thousands of people. Millions of working hours are spent on it and space in buildings devoted to this ritual.
All this investment cannot be proved to have prevented one crime, one fight, or one battered wife. Alcohol-related crime is far more likely to flow from a six-pack bought at the local supermarket. It is extremely unlikely to come from the marquee on the vicarage lawn, the 21st birthday party at the local golf club, or the fund-raising barbecue for the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.
Those who raise money for the church by giving a coffee morning, running a village fête or bazaar can serve coffee, tea and pop all day, but serve a sherry and they break the law.
What a nonsense. The law may make them criminals, but in doing so it makes an ass of itself. It is being broken every day in hundreds of ways. In the case of garden parties often in ignorance, but probably just as often with two fingers stuck up at it. There is far more mortal risk to guests from eating the sandwiches, pies and barbecued chicken legs than from the intake of alcohol.
As hoteliers, restaurateurs, publicans and club owners we have to go along with this nonsense, we have no choice. But does the law have to be written so as to need an army and an institution to administer it?
Could we not be given our licences, subject to whatever conditions and proof needed to show we know how to administer our own premises? After all, we comply with rules covering fire, health and safety, food safety, public order, and all the other laws that require us to manage to the public good, without going back to the authorities at every turn.
Instead, we have to make our genuflections and kiss the backside of outdated Victorian pomposity every time we apply for a licence.
Rationalise these outdated and barmy licensing laws, dismantle the institutions and put the money saved to work where law and enforcement is really needed.
