Britain Becomes Lapland

I am poorer than Manchester United players, older than most of them, and uglier than quite a few. Yet I have never felt the slightest need to go to a lap-dancing club.

The proliferation of these vile establishments is one of the great social developments of our time. The surprise that so many of these women come from abroad is not shared by me. Who would want to display herself thus to her local community, when through the door at any time might walk, say, her neighbours, or her daytime workmates, or her brother, or her father?

Mercifully, the lap-dancing club in Durham is not now to go ahead after all. But the one in Consett has just been granted an extension to five o’clock because the District Council, to its great distress, was unable to find any legal ground for refusing the application. One of the conditions is increased security, including female security, since the worst trouble is on the “ladies’ nights” featuring male dancers. Some ladies!

Have these male dancers also come from abroad? Or is each of them perfectly happy to display himself thus to his local community, when through the door at any time might walk, say, his neighbours, or his daytime workmates, or his sister, or his mother?

And why on God’s green earth would any person, male or female, wish to look at strippers at five o’clock in the morning?