Ministers cannot keep talking about ‘growth’ while standing by as Britain’s night-time economy is slowly strangled to death

As Angela Rayner addresses the Liverpool Night Time Economy Summit, many of us working after dark are wondering why Britain’s nightlife is being applauded in speeches and dismantled backstage.We tend to treat the night-time economy like the parsley on the side of the plate; Decorative, cultural, a nice garnish for tourism brochures. In reality, it is the protein, the thing that keeps the whole city functioning once the office blocks empty out.If you want a barometer for how things have changed, take a walk through Soho. For decades it was the pulsing heart of London after dark – sticky floors, neon glow, queues outside tiny venues. Now you will pass empty units and shuttered spaces between the survivors. And this is London, buoyed by tourism, corporate expense accounts and a constant influx of visitors.If Soho feels thinner, imagine what it looks like in cities without that drumbeat of tourism to prop them up.Outside London, the night-time economy does not have the safety net of global footfall. In places like Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield and Birmingham, venues rely on locals. They rely on students, shift workers, creatives, hospitality staff, and people choosing to spend their limited disposable income close to home. When those customers are squeezed by the cost-of-living crisis, the impact is immediate and brutal.As a stand-up comedian, I have watched the circuit contract in real time. The scrappy Monday and Tuesday pub gigs that once formed the backbone of the industry are disappearing because pubs can no longer afford to open earlier in the week. Rooms that gave new acts their first five minutes are going dark, back rooms where bands cut their teeth, where comics tested material, where communities gathered for quiz nights and open mics, are becoming storage spaces or flats.Britain has a world-class arts scene. Home to some of the best bands in the world, and the sharpest comedians anywhere. Our cultural exports are enviable. But that does not sustain itself by magic. It is built in small venues, on thin margins, with people willing to risk humiliation and low fees in the hope of building something bigger.And here is another problem: fees for entertainers have largely remained static while everything else has soared. Travel costs, accommodation, equipment, energy bills, venue hire. The maths does not work the way it once did. Night-time arts have become a tougher career path precisely at the moment we need the joy and relief.If you make it financially impossible for working-class talent to survive the early years, you do not get a meritocracy. You get a monoculture. The arts drift towards those who can afford to work for exposure because they have parental support or financial cushions. That has consequences far beyond the gig circuit. It shapes who gets heard, whose stories get told and whose jokes land. And frankly, most of us are fatigued by posh white men in suits telling us everything is fine. We need artists who can speak truth to power, not just those who can afford to wait five years for a breakthrough.Meanwhile, policy chips away at the infrastructure that allows any of this to happen. Business rates land hardest on bricks-and-mortar venues that cannot pivot online. Licensing can be slow and inconsistent. Policing gaps leave venues carrying risks they cannot afford. Outside London, late-night transport often stops long before the working night does, as though the economy shuts down when commuters go home.You cannot claim to be pro-growth while making it harder for people to get home safely at 11pm. You cannot say you back regional cities while allowing their independent venues to compete on unequal terms with national discount chains. A local pub trying to survive in a cost-of-living crisis is like a homemade Victoria sponge placed next to a factory cake and judged purely on price.And when an independent pub closes, it is not just a business lost. It is a rehearsal space, a comedy room, a spoken word and music venue, and a semi-public living room in a country that has fewer and fewer of them. Whether it’s the only conversation you have that week, or the only place for a cup of tea and a bit of heating.A serious night-time strategy would treat venues as vital infrastructure, not frivolous indulgence. Reform business rates for small operators, properly fund neighbourhood policing. Streamline licensing and extend late-night transport so hospitality workers and audiences can travel safely. Recognise that the people who clock in at 8pm are as much a part of the economy as those who clock out at 5.Growth is not something that only happens under fluorescent office lighting, it happens in laughter-filled back rooms, on dance floors, in late-night kitchens and on stages where someone new dares to speak up.Starve that, and you are not building a stronger economy, you are draining the life out of it. To quote an old slogan “we want bread for all, and roses too" ________________Vix Leyton is a consumer expert at thinkmoney and a stand-up comedian.LBC Opinion provides a platform for diverse opinions on current affairs and matters of public interest.The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official LBC position.To contact us email opinion@lbc.co.uk

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