I hired a PI after Tattle Life trolls outed my pregnancy – it left me heartbroken, says Jeremy Clarkson's daughter Emily
But since its anonymous owner was outed in a Northern Irish court last month, victims of the forums have finally spoken out against the abuse they've endured, including Emily Clarkson.
3
Speaking on her podcast Should I Delete That? with co-host Alex Light, Jeremy Clarkson 's eldest daughter has shared the lengths she went to in an attempt to uncover the trolls targeting her and her family.
Englishman, Sebastian Bond, lost his right to anonymity in the courts after he was successfully sued for defamation as the website's founder.
The site which attracted 12 million visitors a month was launched seven years ago and supposedly aimed at exposing disingenuous influencers, but has earned the name of a 'troll site; to abuse anyone they see fit.'
And Emily was one of thousands of celebrities targeted by people hiding under anonymous accounts to spread hate and abuse.
Speaking on the podcast, Emily said: "Tattle has been the biggest thorn in our sides.
"You and I, Al, have genuinely been heartbroken by this; it's affected me to the point where I've had to block it on all devices.
Emily revealed she has to get those close to her to check the site every few weeks just to ensure images of her kids and her home address wasn't leaked.
"I was so broken by it, I haven't been able to check it since Arlo was born, if they say anything bad about my kids I'm gonna die" she continued.
The 30-year-old also revealed that her pregnancy with her second child, Xanthe was ruined by trolls on the site who leaked details of her pregnancy.
Emily revealed that the cyberbullying got so bad she ended up hiring a private investigator (PI) to find the trolls who were not just harassing her online but stalking her in real life too.
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Ireland AM guest recalls harrowing online harassment from tattle website
"I need to stress, I've found these people, I've hired a PI and I'm incredibly good at finding people on the internet," she continued.
Emily's clever detective skills led her to find one Tattle Life user who referred to Emily as 'thrush' as she was 'annoying', but on Instagram would DM Emily being nice as pie.
To show her she knew who she was, Emily decided to send her a picture of thrush medication on Instagram and was swiftly left alone by the troll.
"She saw it and never replied," Emily chuckled.
Tattle Life Timeline
Creation of Tattle Life: The online forum Tattle Life was established as a platform for commentary and critiques of influencers and celebrities.
Harassment of Neil and Donna Sands: A 45-page thread targeting Neil and Donna Sands appeared on Tattle Life, leading to a campaign of harassment, invasion of privacy, defamation, and breach of data rights against the couple.
Legal Action by the Sands: Neil and Donna Sands filed a lawsuit against Tattle Life, seeking justice for the harm caused by the forum's content.
Outcome of the Lawsuit: The Sands won £300,000 in damages, marking a significant victory in their legal battle.
Unmasking of Tattle Life Owner: The legal action revealed the identity of the website's owner, Sebastian Bond, also known as the vegan cooking influencer Bastian Durward.
Repercussions for Tattle Life: Following the lawsuit, many users of Tattle Life began deleting their accounts due to fears of exposure. Other individuals who have been targeted by the site are now considering legal action, including applying for Norwich Pharmacal orders to unmask anonymous trolls.
After her pregnancy was leaked on the site, Emily got a PI to track down who it was.
"It felt really nice to know they could be found, and if you push me too far, I know who you are," she continued.
"If I read my thread, I'd think I'm the worst person in the world," she added.
Emily made the point that not only did the comments hurt her but could also affect future work partnerships and relationships, and the platform never gave those targeted a chance to defend themselves.
Since it was created in 2017, the founder of Tattle Life was anonymous, but it was found out after fashion brand owner Donna Sands and her husband Neil took the owner to court in Northern Ireland, Sebastian's identity was lifted.
Thanks to The Sands, who were targeted by those on the site, Sebastian was found to be the anonymous founder and they have been awarded £150,000 each.
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Times
25 minutes ago
- Times
Bob Geldof on Live Aid at 40: ‘White saviour? That's nonsense'
At 73, Bob Geldof still looks very much the rock star in his leather jacket, shades and unruly mop of hair, now entirely grey. This coming Halloween, his band the Boomtown Rats, formed in his native Dun Laoghaire, south of Dublin, will celebrate their 50th (albeit with a long break) anniversary with a tour. His status as an international aid activist, however, has long eclipsed his late Seventies success as a musician, and we're meeting at Bafta, in Piccadilly, to talk about another anniversary. On July 13 it will be 40 years since the Live Aid gigs in London and Philadelphia, Geldof's follow-up to the Band Aid single he had co-written and co-ordinated the previous Christmas. That had been a response to reading Paul Vallely's reports in The Times, and seeing Michael Buerk's coverage for the BBC, of the devastating famine in northern Ethiopia. The BBC has now made three hour-long documentaries, about Band Aid, Live Aid and its 2005 successor, Live 8. Geldof is at Bafta to watch the second film and speak about it afterwards. I learn in a later phone call that he was not happy with some of the content. In the first film Geldof describes the 'shame and rage' he felt on seeing the pictures of young children starving to death 'in this world of plenty'. It will surprise no one to learn that four decades on, the rage is undimmed. Despite stiff competition in a nation famed for its passion and eloquence, Geldof would still merit selection to talk for Ireland. His conversation is, as we know, urgent, profane and colourful. He is a very bright man with an acute memory and a world-class contacts book, able to access pretty much anyone he thinks can help his cause. A sophisticated campaigner, Geldof is also, which is perhaps less acknowledged, an arch-pragmatist, working across politics to raise money and effect change. 'No business is more ruthlessly focused on the bottom line,' he tells me, 'than rock and roll.' • Tony Blair: Bono and Geldof saved millions of lives with Live Aid For instance, he gives short shrift to critics of Live Aid for not featuring many black artists. There were a fair few African-Americans on stage in Philadelphia but only Sade featured at Wembley. 'The line-up was about getting people who sold millions of records so we could raise millions of pounds. That was my sole criterion when I asked people. There weren't black artists in Britain at that time selling big numbers.' Geldof speaks highly of Andrew Mitchell, the Conservative minister of state for development and Africa, and his former boss, David Cameron, who as prime minister took UK overseas aid spending to 0.7 per cent of GDP. 'Cameron was given the day off from Eton to watch Live Aid. He told me it had influenced a generation. And when I sold my TV company Planet 24 to Michael Green, his PR was a young David Cameron, so I knew him.' He remains in touch with George W Bush, the former Republican president who gave so much money to combat HIV/Aids in Africa after being lobbied by the Bob and Bono double act. Bush appears in the third documentary, chuckling that 'Geldof looked like somebody who'd crawled out from under the ground'. Another indication of Geldof's realism is that he is less scathing than might be supposed about Labour's cuts to the aid budget to fund defence spending. 'Without any question, we need to rearm now. Not in f***ing 2029. Now. Our continent is being invaded now by an arch-thug [Putin]. So that's first.' He also recognises these are grim, ungenerous, pull-up-the-drawbridge times, far different from 2005, the pinnacle of his activism, when after many years of global economic growth the G8 Gleneagles summit agreed to partial debt cancellation and expanded aid for poor countries, thanks in part to 20 years of lobbying by campaigners like Geldof. 'Politics does what it's allowed to do by where society is at. People are very afraid at the moment, there's been a cultural shift. That allows Trump's mayhem on February 1. When Musk just pulled the plug on the USAID websites, instantly 10,000 USAID workers around the world were in serious danger. That allowed everyone else to say 'times are tough'. It's the brute politics of now. So all of this hoopla around this anniversary is frankly odd for me.' Even so, there is no limit to hoopla about Live Aid that someone my age (I was just shy of 21 in July 1985) is willing to hear. Geldof, showman that he is, duly obliges. Part of his critique of the documentary is that it did not include enough footage of the actual music, in London and Philadelphia, given that the standard was so high. 'Why is it remembered so vividly? Because of the link-up with America, and because people felt part of something bigger, but also because it was such a great concert. I don't think the film captured the glory of that.' • Daniel Finkelstein: Band Aid's critics are just feeding cynicism The other factor, I suggest, was that Live Aid was the first time the pop demographic, which in 1985 still largely meant people under the age of 30, had seen Paul McCartney playing Beatles songs. Nowadays, Macca trooping on stage flashing peace signs to close out a big event with Hey Jude or Let It Be is commonplace. In 1985 it was a revelation. 'It was his first time on stage since John died. Linda, Stella and the kids persuaded him to do it. He was driving up from Sussex, listening to U2 on the radio, and they were so good, he was getting really nervous, especially because once he'd said yes, given the hierarchy in pop, with the Beatles unassailable at the top, he had the added burden of closing the show. 'Paul asked me which song he should do and I said Let It Be, because it's a benediction. Then his mic fails and Pete Townshend [Geldof had bounced the Who into appearing by announcing on TV that they were reforming, which was news to them] grabs me from one side and says, 'Let's help him,' and David Bowie grabs me from the other, and with Alison [Moyet] we went out to sing along.' McCartney was not the only nervous superstar that night. 'David Bowie was literally trembling at the side of the stage before his set. Really scared. We were watching the viewing figures and becoming aware of the sheer size of the audience [close to two billion].' Before his performance, earlier on, Geldof had lain on the floor backstage to stretch out his painful back. 'David [Bowie] came by and said, 'What's the matter?' I told him and he said, 'Roll over,' and started massaging me. I'm saying, 'Bit further down, mate,' to David f***ing Bowie!' Geldof doesn't want to be overly critical of the latest documentary. 'But there were too many redundant DJs from the 1980s and some great performances not seen. Elvis Costello riffing on All You Need Is Love, Elton John and George Michael. I don't want to sound self-aggrandising but it was a fabulous gig. And it said, 'Change is possible, there is such a thing as society and for once in our lives, something can work.'' And, as Tony Blair says in the third episode, thanks to Band Aid and Live Aid, 'millions of people are alive today who otherwise wouldn't be'. Geldof still spends at least an hour a day, every day, 'including Sundays', on his role as chair, and one of six trustees, of the Band Aid Charitable Trust. Midge Ure, his co-founder, is another trustee, as is Harvey Goldsmith, who promoted Live Aid. That morning, he had listened to a brief about Somalia from a group asking for $80,000 to remove thousands of goitres [lumps in the neck] caused by iodine deficiency. 'It's amazing how much you can help with comparatively small amounts of money.' One section of the film that impressed me, I say, is how he knew right from the outset that if he went to Ethiopia after the success of Band Aid he would face criticism. The term 'white saviour complex' had yet to be coined in early 1985, when Geldof went to the refugee camps in Tigray, but that is what he was accused of having, then and since. He went because Ken Lennox, the veteran tabloid photographer and a neighbour in London, came round and told him he had to go for the famine to stay in the media spotlight. 'This white saviour thing is bollocks,' he says succinctly. 'It comes from all that 1968 Derrida/Foucault language bollocks. It's nonsense. 'I understood the argument. I was a late 20th-century creature of the media. I'm only in Africa because of television and some guy writing in The Times. The media came to me and said, 'When are you going to Africa?' I said, 'What are you talking about?' They said, 'You have to go.' And I said, 'Why?' And they said, 'Because you're the f***ing story'. 'And I said, 'I'm not the story. People are f***ing dying of no food in a world of surplus food, that's the story.' And they said, 'We can't keep doing the starving child, the starving mother, we've done it, Bob.'' So off he went. That was the moment when the course of his last 40 years was set. What Geldof is seeking, he says, is 'a new rhetoric' to get development back up the agenda. 'For years Britain led the way, the gold standard, soft power in excelsis.' He thinks one way to address concerns is to tackle concerns over immigration. 'What people want to do is stop a thousand people arriving each day on the boats. Fair enough. But Africa is the one continent of population growth. Look at Nigeria: about 240 million people now, the UN says it'll be 350 million by 2050. And those people currently aren't able to find work in the countries where they are. They are going to come. 'Nobody really wants to cross mountains and deserts or get in a rubber tube and try and get across the sea. So we shouldn't dodge this issue. We should say if we help build an economy at the very basic level of health, education and agriculture, and then invest in those economies, it will be good for Britain. It sounds pious and lefty, but it's evidence-based.' This is the essence and appeal of Geldof. So often patronised as a 'give us yer fecking money!' (which he didn't actually say) rabble-rouser, he is in fact a deeply realistic, gradualist, coalition-building expert. He finishes by urging me to go and see Just for One Day, the musical based on Live Aid running in the West End. 'It's a laugh, the music is insane, it's a cartoon and the poor f***er who has to play me, he's a Scouser, he's 6ft 4in, but unbelievably his party piece when he was nine years old, his granny used to make him get up on the kitchen table and do Bob Geldof.' And yes, the real thing is anything but inimitable, yet he is a very special man all the Aid at 40: When Rock'n'Roll Took on the World starts on Sunday, July 6 on BBC2 at 9pm Live Aid turns 40: tell us your best story Set the scene, where were you and how old were you? Then tell us what happened. Please share your response with us in a voice message on WhatsApp. You can reach us at +44 (0)7353096428
The Sun
31 minutes ago
- The Sun
It all started when Bill and I went round to Ozzy's house looking for a singer, says Black Sabbath's Tony Iommi
FOR 57 years, Tony Iommi has been Black Sabbath's keeper of the flame. He is 'Master Of The Riffs' — some say he invented heavy metal — and he is the only band member to stay the course. 5 'Everybody else has come and gone and come back,' the guitarist tells me in his soft Brummie tones. 'I've been the constant one.' Talking to the affable Iommi, 77, it's hard to imagine that he's responsible for some of rock's darkest, dirtiest, most bone-crunching riffs. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the original line-up face their final curtain. It's our last chance to hear Paranoid, War Pigs and Iron Man performed live by the four musicians who created them. No doubt all eyes will be on the singer, the 'Prince Of Darkness' himself. Despite complaining to me recently that he has enough health issues 'to fill a medical dictionary', Ozzy Osbourne is set to give his hometown of Birmingham a hellraising last hurrah. But let's not forget that the Back To The Beginning extravaganza at Villa Park also marks the end of a journey for bassist Geezer Butler, drummer Bill Ward — and Iommi. Sabbath are held in highest esteem by the bands that followed in their wake, hence an incredible supporting cast. With Rage Against The Machine's Tom Morello serving as musical director, there's a blizzard of metal titans paying their dues. Metallica, Slayer, Pantera, Alice In Chains, Sammy, Hagar, Steven Tyler (Aerosmith), Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins), Duff McKagan and Slash (Guns N' Roses), Fred Durst (Limp Bizkit) — the list goes on. Ozzy Osbourne announces final Black Sabbath gig as band reunite for 'greatest heavy metal show ever' with HUGE line up 'It's a great honour,' says Iommi. 'I'm so proud of everyone who has come forward to support Sabbath. 'They've come from everywhere to be a part of something. This is a real one-off.' Iommi is particularly chuffed that his old mucker Ward, who he first met at Birchfield Road School, is back in the Sabbath fold for the first time since 2005. 'Bill and I were in a couple of bands before Sabbath,' he says, 'and that's when we went round to Ozzy's house looking for a singer. It was how it all started.' Seeing that the gig is called Back To The Beginning, I ask Iommi to sift through the mists of time to describe how the band came together. He begins by giving me his first impressions of Ozzy before moving on to Geezer. 'At school, I didn't even know that Ozzy could sing,' he says. 'It was a racket at first, I must say, but after we'd been playing for a while, he got really good.' As for the singer's madcap behaviour, Iommi adds: 'He got more loony as we went on. In the early days, we'd be on this little stage at a club or somewhere and we had this thing between us. 'If I broke a string, I'd shout to Ozzy, 'Organise a raffle, organise a raffle!' which meant, 'Talk to the audience'. 'He wasn't very good at that in the early days, he didn't know what to say. 'But he got more and more confident and, eventually, he became like he is — very out front.' Iommi moves on to Geezer and says: 'Before Sabbath, Bill and I used to play these all-nighters at a place in Birmingham. 'I always remember seeing Geezer there, crawling up walls because of the drugs they were on in those days. 'I made my fingertips' 'Me and Bill used to think, 'Blimey, he's mad, that guy'. Of course, when we got together with him, we realised he was very, very sensible. 'Geezer had never played bass before — he was a guitar player — but it was amazing how quickly he picked it up.' So what about Iommi himself? 'Originally, I wanted to play drums,' he replies, 'but because of where we lived with my parents, you couldn't get a drum kit in the house. It was so small. 'My mother bought me a guitar, one of these cheap £20 ones from a catalogue, and I sat in my room learning to play. I really enjoyed it.' Then he adds with a self-deprecating chuckle: 'And I'm still trying to learn to play the guitar!' This was the early Sixties when one band in particular caught Iommi's ear — The Shadows led by his guitar hero Hank Marvin. 5 'I used to listen to the Top 20 on my little radio,' he says. 'The Shadows really inspired me because I loved their sound and style. 'They were an instrumental band and it was great because I had something to learn and to relate to. Then I could go off and do my own thing.' I thought that I'd become involved in the scene in some way and I didn't expect to become a musician Iommi Iommi was also shaped by his tough upbringing in Aston. Of the neighbourhood where he lived, he says: 'It was rough and gang infested. You had to be careful walking round the streets because you'd get beaten up if you were in the wrong area. 'I started doing martial arts — judo and karate — purely to protect myself,' he continues. 'I went training three or four times a week. 'I thought that I'd become involved in the scene in some way and I didn't expect to become a musician.' Iommi recalls having 'a dream of being on a stage, look-ing out, I always thought it was to do with martial arts but, of course, it wasn't. I later realised it was about being on stage playing guitar'. At 17, he had a horrific industrial accident which would have a profound effect on Black Sabbath's signature heavy guitar sound. While operating a guillotine press in a sheet-metal factory, Iommi lost the tips of the middle and ring fingers on his right hand. He says: 'I went to the hospital and they said, 'You might as well forget playing the guitar'. 'I just couldn't accept that attitude so I made my own fingertips with thimbles. I had to come up with a totally different way of playing. 'I also worked on the guitar all the time. I had it in bits and put it back together, trying to make it more comfortable to play. 'Eventually, that extended to experimenting with amplifiers, making a sound that would be more full.' By the time Sabbath, originally known as Earth, got together in 1968, Iommi was on a mission to make a success of it despite financial hardships. 5 'Oh God, I drove the bloody van!' he exclaims. 'Unloaded the gear, played, drove back. 'We were hard up. We might make 15 quid and, on our way home, stop off and spend it all at a fish and chip shop. 'But it was great because we started from nothing and we went through the whole thing together. 'We became glued to each other, we lived in each other's pockets, and it really made us a band.' Iommi continues: 'The name was Geezer's idea after he watched a Boris Karloff film called Black Sabbath. It was appropriate for our music and it stuck. 'When we were Earth, we got misbooked because they thought we were a pop band. We absolutely died a death!' An all-important step for Sabbath, like any up-and- coming act, was getting a record deal. Iommi remembers how it happened: 'We used to play at a club in Birmingham where Jim Simpson, who became our first manager, would get people to come down and see us. 'Of course 99 per cent of them said 'no' and one per cent said 'yes'. We were playing something different. In those days, it was all soul, not our kind of music.' The self-titled debut album contains the song Black Sabbath which bears Iommi's first great riff. He regards it as their breakthrough moment. 'That track hit home,' he says. 'It was so different and we knew straight away, 'That's it, that's what we want to do, that's the benchmark'.' 'Screaming girls' Iommi took on a lot of the responsibility at the time, getting the others out of bed and into the studio by 9am. 'Everybody needs somebody to direct them,' he affirms. 'Otherwise it turns into chaos.' That first album, now regarded as a trailblazing triumph, landed to lukewarm reviews but it didn't deter Iommi and his bandmates. I always remember somebody — I won't mention his name — came to review us. He left unknown to us and we DIDN'T play, but he still reviewed the show. What does that tell you? Iommi 'Of course, you never want a bad review but you have to believe in what you do,' he says. 'If we did get a reasonably good review, we'd bloody faint, but we never lost that belief and that's what made us stronger. 'I always remember somebody — I won't mention his name — came to review us. He left unknown to us and we DIDN'T play, but he still reviewed the show. What does that tell you?' Next came the album which propelled Sabbath to the stratosphere, Paranoid, with its iconic three-minute adrenaline rush of a title track. Iommi says: 'We never went to the States with the first album but Paranoid opened up America for us.' And yet the song itself was almost an afterthought, as he explains. 'When we were finishing the album, we went out to get something to eat. 'The producer came out and said to me, 'We need another track. We haven't got enough tracks'. So I had to come up with Paranoid. I waited for the others to come back and played it to them. 'Geezer wrote some lyrics, the guys learnt the song and we recorded it there and then. 'It was supposed to be filler but it was the one that took off — and we ended up on Top Of The Pops.' Appearing on the UK's premier pop showcase went against everything Sabbath stood for in their quest 'to be an album band taken seriously for our music'. Iommi says: 'It was funny. You've got people like Cilla Black and then us. Bloody odd combination, it was! 'And the last thing we wanted to do was attract screaming girls.' After Paranoid, Sabbath were on a roll, producing a string of high-octane, high-quality albums — Master Of Reality (1971), Vol.4 (1972), Sabbath Bloody Sabbath (1973) and Sabotage (1975). 'For each album, we tried different things,' says Iommi. 'On Master Of Reality, I started tuning down a bit to get an even heavier sound. 5 'The whole vibe on Vol. 4 was great. We went to Los Angeles where John du Pont was unfortunate enough to rent us his house. 'It was a fantastic place with a ballroom, swimming pools and, God, did we have some fun.' It was only after ten years in the business that the wheels started to fall off for Sabbath, resulting in Ozzy's exit. 'Obviously, drugs were involved,' says Iommi. 'It got to a stage where Ozzy had lost interest. He'd go missing for a couple of days in Los Angeles — things like that. 'I was nominated to go to the record company and make all the excuses. We were coming up with riffs but it just wasn't going anywhere. 'It got to a point where I had to say, 'Look, we'll have to replace Ozzy or break up'. At the time, it was best for both of us and Ozzy went off and did his own thing.' Sabbath regrouped with Ronnie James Dio taking over on lead vocals, the first of a succession of singers. Then, in the late Nineties, the original Sabbath reformed and toured until 2005. Minus drummer Ward, they got back together for the Rick Rubin-produced 13 (released in 2013) and played live again until 2017. Now, eight years on, Sabbath are making their last stand. They've all had well-documented health issues but Iommi and Ozzy see the funny side. Ozzy even called himself 'Iron Man' after surgeons inserted bolts in his neck following a fall at his home in the outskirts of Los Angeles 'He should be called the Six Million Dollar Man,' laughs Iommi. 'I hear from him every few days and we complain to each other. 'We've all had problems so it's quite an achievement for us to get on stage again after so many years. 'We'll do the gig – then we'll probably keel over!'
The Sun
31 minutes ago
- The Sun
Iconic nightclub which hosted Rod Stewart & Stormzy to shut for good in days – as new owners reveal plans for venue
AN ICONIC nightclub which has hosted stars such as Rod Stewart and Stormzy is set to shut for good in just days. It marks the end of an era after the popular student hotspot and concert venue will close its doors for the last time after more than 20 years. Pryzm Kingston, which has hosted Stormzy, Rod Stewart and Billie Eilish will officially close this month. The club on Clarence Street closed its disco room at 3.30am on June 28 but will welcome partygoers for one final night in the main room on July 12. A spokesperson for the club said earlier this week: "Pryzm is closing its doors for the final time on Saturday July 12 at 3.30am. "We want to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has stepped through our doors over the years. "Whether you came for a dance, poured a few drinks or had a spin on the decks, we've loved every minute of creating memories with you." The venue has been a popular nightlife hotspot for more than 20 years but the party isn't over just yet. The nightclub's owners, Neos Hospitality, has other plans for the space, submitting plans to convert the Grade II listed building into two new venues. There will be a "party bar" on the ground floor, known as Bonnie Rogues, in addition to a new nightclub on the first and second floors called Circuit. Neos also want the spaces to continue Pryzm's live music legacy. The origins of the venue stretch back to 1939 when it was first built and known as the Granada Theatre. Following a building renovation it became a nightclub called Oceana in 2003 before it was rebranded as Pryzm in 2014. Russell Quelch, the CEO of Neos, said they want the site to continue being a night out favourite for Londoners. He added: "Thousands of people have made memories that will last them a lifetime, from over 20 years of amazing nights out at PRYZM and Oceana before it." "The closure is the end of a long running chapter for the Kingston club scene, but it's time to look to the future and reimagine what this site could hold, in a fresh new look at nightlife for next generation of UK party lovers." Neos bought club from previous owners Rekom UK after they went bust in 2024. At the time, Rekom had announced they were closing more than a dozen venues with immediate effect after plunging into administration. The company cited cost of living pressures and rising business rates and operational costs for the closures. But 11 of their sites were sold and remained open under new owners which included Kingston's PRYZM. The UK nightclub industry was hit hard by the pandemic and the cost of living crisis, with many other venues closing in recent years. High energy costs have crippled businesses and soaring inflation has seen punters cutting back on nights out. According to the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA), there has been a 32.7 per cent decline in activity since 2020.
