Welcome to Wakefield

When Peter Kay wrote 'Phoenix Nights', he wanted to characterise a shabby, ramshackle, badly-run, social club in the North of England (Bolton to be precise). What he probably didn't realise is that is writings would just so aptly depict an entire city.

Head south from Leeds and you'll eventually reach a signpost for Wakefield although, unlike Phoenix Nights, it isn't wired into the lamp-post and won't tell you to "pull up into paradise".

Many people have questioned the merits of Wakefield's city status, and Friday night's visit to the city for Leeds' game with the Wildcats hasn't converted me into thinking otherwise either.

Firstly, the city centre completely closes at 5pm and given that have of the retail units have the words "Closing Down" white-washed on them, I don't imagine that it's the hive of activity before that time either. If you want a under-cooked kebab, items costing £1 or a (possibly) stolen mobile phone, then it's probably the place for you but if you actually want something useful, non-poisonous or legal, it's probably best go somewhere else.

Some of those problems can be put down to the neighboring city of Leeds. Many of the locals work in Leeds, a city which has built a heavy proportion of it's economy on retail and the city centre. There has even been talk of Wakefield becoming part of a 'Greater Leeds' district, which would be a bad thing for all involved. Bad for Wakefield, because it would cease to exist and bad for Leeds because it will be the geographic equivalent of growing a hemorrhoid.

Anyway, onto the rugby ground itself. It's a shit hole.
There is literally no other word to describe the venue and when you actually see Belle Vue for the first time, it's no surprise that Wakefield is officially the "worst city for sport" in the UK.
It's crumbling, pot-hole ridden terraces and dangerous exit system make you wonder how the ground gets a safety certificate in the first place and it's missing a few of the 'mod-cons' you might expect to find at any mid-table Unibond North League football ground such as roofs, draught beers and a scoreboard (although one helpful chap does put numbered cards onto a hook if you happen to lose count.)

Throughout the game, the PA operator couldn't get the hang of making the music system play at the right time to perform some pathetic jingle for Wildcats player Jamie Rooney and the constant yelling of "MAKE SOME NOIIIIIIIIISE!" over the tannoy soon got irritating.
Needless to say, the 'Belle Vue experience' is one that is endured rather than enjoyed.

So after that experience, onwards to sample some of that Wakefield night-life that we'd heard so much about and yet again, it proved to be an anti-climax.

Walking along the famous 'Westgate run', we encountered nothing but half-empty chain bars, seedy heroin houses and boarded up boozers. The 'place to be' on a Friday night in Wakefield appeared to be Flares, which tells you more or less everything else you need to know.

One person on the trip described the town as a "poor man's Bradford", I'm not sure if a more derogatory statement has ever been made.