Wendy Clare, landlady of The Constitution, says her application for a 3.30am licence will cause no trouble to her neighbours

EVERY three years, I receive a letter from the clerk to the Licensing Justices, reminding me that my licence, authorising me to sell by retail, intoxicating liquor, is due for renewal.
I am asked to send a cheque for £30 and sign the form to confirm that I am still the licensee. I duly comply and within two or three weeks my new license is sent to me.
That is, of course, unless the magistrates have been informed of any contravention of the terms of the license in that time. I imagine that would entail being hauled before the courts and pleading my case. Contraventions could be as diverse as keeping barking dogs to violent behaviour on the premises involving police being called.
Not having had to appear before the magistrates since I was granted my license nearly nine years ago, I am only guessing about the procedures.
It all seemed so simple. Keep a good house, we won’t bother you if you don’t bother us. Until some person in Westminster uttered those three little words “24 hours”.
Mayhem ensued. Media hype conjured up images for the public of their communities descending into areas where the gutters run with blood and vomit and public disorder would be commonplace. Hatches would be battened, daughters locked up and elderly residents would hide under the eiderdown with their doors and windows locked by 10pm.
Obviously the scaremongers haven’t ventured into Camden High Street after 11pm on a Friday or Saturday night for the last five years. Neither have I for that matter. I have listened very carefully to the stories of those that have.
Closer to home, in the leafy streets and approaches to Elm Village, we are by now accustomed to the early hour screams and ravings of drunken revellers returning from the bright lights of Camden.
We hear of the sinister whistles of drug dealers calling their users to heel on the blackness of the unlit canal towpath. Some would have it that my application for a 3:30am licence is a cynical, money-grabbing attempt to lure such boozers to our neighbourhood.
Had they bothered to ask, or even visit, their local, they would have soon realised that nothing could be further from the truth.
My pub, which has been modified to offer disabled-access, provides a safe and enjoyable venue for an incredibly diverse cross-section of the local community. Our award-winning beer garden is a virtual oasis for flat-dwellers for whom Regent’s Park is too far away and the small, local parks are, as yet, still too unsafe to frequent.
People can, and do, leave duplicate keys in case of emergencies; they have our contact numbers for 24-hour help and regularly come to my staff and me before they would go to their GP or council officer. We operate a zero-tolerance policy toward violence, drugs, under-age drinking and anti-social behaviour.
Our “one strike and you’re out for good” policy has worked wonders. Ask anybody who patronises The Con. Local pubs are fast disappearing, being replaced by vertical drinking emporiums propped up by the seemingly limitless coffers of the new pubcos. No one can ever claim to have seen a sign offering happy hours, cheap shots or two-for-ones in the windows of my pub.
They may, however, have seen a notice once a year offering English ale at 50p a pint cheaper on St George’s Day. I hold my hands up to that one.
My application for a late licence is to accommodate occasional local demand for somewhere to celebrate special occasions, in a place where they are known, safe and welcome.
Charity events – for causes such as the Jack Taylor School for disabled children – are unlikely to descend into the drunken orgies that some alarmists predict.
As to coach parties – if only.
A coach party arriving on a wet Tuesday afternoon is every decent publican’s dream.
Rugby tours, jolly boys outings and stag nights are not likely to search out the back streets of Camden.
And if they did, they’d probably find us closed.
Concerned residents should look closely at my application. It is in the public domain. Exactly where it should be.