A night out in Leicester
AMID a grim downpour, we trudged into the city. Making our way through the busy streets, a sense of unease crept upon me: hooded urban youths loitering in doorways, glaring coldly, rarely provoke any other feeling. In my chinos I felt preposterous amid the tracksuits and menacing glares.
Yet with safety in numbers we carried on. Thankfully it was only a brief walk to our destination: the gay bar.
It may surprise some readers, but I am not a regular attendee in such venues (I promise this isn’t one of those ‘Christian-pastor-caught-cottaging’ scenarios). Having sped to Leicester straight from the Reform UK conference, I was experiencing a societal ying and yang: from the young, wannabe politicos in suits and the eccentric middle-aged men drawn ‘to conference’, I had suddenly been parachuted to the city's equivalent of Soho. Tweed was out, ripped stockings and corsets – and that’s just the chaps – was …
The rest of this article features in our September 2024 print issue, available to subscribers.
