Breathalysing at clubs will mean more drugs and more violence

And drugs are bad


The last time someone wasn’t off their face in a queue they were at the Job Centre. Last term it was revealed that many clubs around the country would be starting breathalysing people before entry.

The policy, which has been launched by the police and city council in cities like Brum and Loughborough, and no doubt soon to hit Nottingham, aims to tackle alcohol-related violence.

Enforcers claim it has been proven that if ‘pre-loading’ (or pre-drinking if you’re under 30) is cut away, club crime will fall by a third.

Of course this is the case. Of course alcohol related violence will fall if there are breathalysers scattered around your city, because no one will bother going out.

Students can’t afford to get drunk inside the club. As the average drinks prices are bigger than the bouncers’ egos, it will simply be the case that people stay inside with a bottle of Glen’s cradled in their arms like a small kitten.

Would mean less of this

Would mean less of this

This harebrained new policy will cost. If the doors of your night’s destination will throw you away for being drunk, instead of staying in, clubbers may substitute the drinks for something else.

Breathalysers test for alcohol in your blood, not drugs. It’s a very real threat that increased policing on alcohol will increase drug taking, as clubbers test clear on the breathalyser yet still believe they can throw better shapes than the whole of Diversity.

This could pose more significant problems than a bit of alcohol-related violence.

It is worth mentioning that the breathalysing testing is to be done randomly. So if you can hold your shit together in the queue, you might just get away with being plastered. However, if you are the unlucky one to be pulled aside, your night is likely to be over.

To appear ‘drunk’ on the test, you must have at least twice the drink-driving limit of alcohol in your blood. This is a couple of pints of beer.

This means that the sly drunkard could slip through the club’s doors, and the guiltless personification of sobriety that is yourself could be on the way home as the protagonist of a scheme that wants to reduce alcohol-induced violence.

The thought of spending Friday night in Ocean stone-cold sober is extremely harrowing, and before we know it, this could be something students have to consider. Yes, reduced violence is a good thing, but when it comes with the danger of significantly reduced numbers on a night out or people trying to find other ways around the system, it poses further problems.

Here, a great tragedy begins to unfold: the pre-drinks becomes the night itself. Pre-drinks are the staple of any student diet – the archetype of nights out. Long may they continue.