“Pubs Closing Faster Than Labours’ Promises: Why Your Local Boozer Is Worth More Than a £7 Pint and a Fake Smile”

Hi and welcome to this Video Production News Friday Editorial.Hi and welcome to this Video Production News Friday Editorial.

As aYorkshiremanYorkshiremanand Great British Cask Ale Fanatic who now lives in the home of the£7.00 pint (London)£7.00 pint (London)– I have very strong emotions about the high level of British pub closures and why removing these vital community hubs from our high streets and villages is having so many negative repercussions, which I hope to lay out for you in this editorial.

Now, a quick dedication toSimonSimon, who threw down the gauntlet for me to tackle this very topic. Simon, this one’s for you—I hope I live up to the challenge.

In every community, there exists a place where the collective memory of a people is distilled into pints and shared over tales both triumphant and tragic. That place is not a grand monument, nor is it some lofty institution—it is the humble pub. Or, as we fondly refer to them here in the UK, the local boozer. And before you dismiss this as mere sentimentality, let me make a very clear argument for why the survival of these institutions is essential to the social fabric of our communities.

Think of your local boozer not as an establishment for intoxication, but as a kind of living room for the entire community. A third place, as the sociologists like to call it—a space that is neither work nor home, but where social connections are made, solidified, and celebrated. In these increasingly isolated times, such spaces are precious. They are where friendships blossom, where gossip percolates, where football victories and heartbreaks alike are shared. They are also, more importantly, where the loneliest among us find company, if even for a short while.

The pub, you see, is the great equaliser. Whether you’re a builder, a banker, or a barista, when you step through those doors, your social status fades away, and what matters is that you are a regular—or at least someone who might one day become one. You can engage in deep conversation with a stranger at the bar, and by the end of the night, you’ll know their life story—right down to the peculiar way their aunt pronounces “scone.” And where else does that happen? A Pret a Manger?I think not.I think not.

London, as anyone who has bought a pint recently will know, has earned the dubious title of being the home of the £7.00 pint. For those of us who mourn both the price and the closure of so many pubs, there’s a glimmer of hope in the fact that not all boozers have priced themselves out of existence. Enter Wetherspoons, with its glorious £3.00 cask ale in London. It’s no wonder The Mossy Well, my not-so-local-but-now-local Wetherspoons, has become my boozer of choice. Shameless plug? Perhaps. But at least you can still get a decent, affordable pint there. And isn’t that part of the magic? A pub should be for everyone, not just the rich.

But let’s not kid ourselves here—this isn’t just some romanticised nostalgia. Studies show that social isolation is on the rise, and communities are feeling the strain. With local shops shutting down, libraries on their last legs, and post offices dwindling into memory, the local boozer remains one of the few bastions of communal life. It offers something invaluable—a place where people can feel part of something larger than themselves, even if that something is just a chat over a pint of lukewarm ale.

Yet, it is precisely this sense of community that is under threat as pubs close at an alarming rate. Over 7,000 have disappeared in the last decade, with one of the largest losses occurring in the West Midlands—28 pubs shut down in just six months in 2021. And while we can point the finger at the obvious culprits—rising energy costs, COVID lockdowns, and the inevitable march of gentrification—let’s not dwell on the grim details. The real tragedy is not the economic fallout but the social one. When a pub closes, it’s not just the bricks and mortar that are lost—it’s the friendships, the stories, the sense of belonging.

Consider, if you will, the fate of a community without its local pub. It’s a place where residents become strangers, where once-tight-knit bonds fray, and where the rhythm of life slows down to a monotonous, isolated hum. No longer will there be a place to celebrate the village fete or to grumble collectively about the council’s latest budget cuts. No longer will there be a space to cheer for—or bemoan—the local football club’s latest performance.

Moreover, let’s not forget the invaluable role pubs play in supporting the local economy. Many pubs are, or were, family-run establishments, steeped in history and tradition, serving locally brewed ales and ciders. They’re employers, often providing the first job for many a teenager fresh out of school. They’re supporters of local events, sponsors of charity drives, and the very definition of a micro-economy in action. To lose a pub is to lose more than a business—it is to sever a vital artery of local life.

But here’s the thing—there is hope. Some communities have taken matters into their own hands, banding together to save their locals from closure. These are stories of ordinary people refusing to let go of something extraordinary, like the villagers of Ulgham in Northumberland, who have raised thousands to buy and reopen The Forge Inn. These brave souls are ensuring that their boozer doesn’t join the long list of closures, and in doing so, they are reclaiming their community’s heartbeat.

There’s something poetic about that, isn’t there? Ordinary people, coming together not for profit but for people. And let’s be real—when was the last time a Starbucks saved a community? The answer is never. But a pub can. And it does. And it will—if we let it.

So, as I drain the last dregs of my pint, I can’t help but think that we must do everything in our power to save the local boozer. Not because of some sentimental notion of ‘the good old days,’ but because pubs are vital. They are the spaces where community spirit is brewed, where lifelong friendships are formed, and where, as the Cheers theme song reminds us,“everybody knows your name.”“everybody knows your name.”Well, perhaps not at Wetherspoons, but you get the idea.

Well, that’s all for now. But until our next article, please stay tuned, stay informed, but most of all stay safe, and I’ll see you then.Well, that’s all for now. But until our next article, please stay tuned, stay informed, but most of all stay safe, and I’ll see you then.

Bénédict Tarot FreemanBénédict Tarot Freeman

Editor-at-LargeEditor-at-Large

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