There’s a party. Where’s the party at? In the abandoned Police Station? No problem.

I observed a troop of nondescript Midlands youths in a nondescript Midlands town spawn their own squat party scene, not a ten-minute walk from a Primark savvy high street.

Their locale officially designates a few methods of entertainment. Football in the park, skating in the street. Buying things. Booooooring, let’s explore.

That building looks empty. Fuck it, let’s take a look. Hmm, that’s funny, the alarms don’t work. The toilet still flushes? Sockets still work? And just like that, a new venue is born.

A variety of characters were in and out of the place every weekend. The bravest youngers would call up their buddies and help them climb into the building. It’s vast. Each night, a different room witnessed scenes of relatively harmless madness. Party lights, fire extinguisher fights and a skank or two.

The floor got messy but the kids got braver. Timid on their first night, hollering the place alive by their last. Sleep over? No problem. Sofas and soft finery from old dorms made good bedding, and one room’s heater still worked just fine. In the morning, the authorities would arrive, show the squatters the door, and wish them well.

One time, a violent minded dealer make his way inside, brandishing a knife to anyone with whom he made eye contact. The situation seemed tense, but it loosened up when a friendly young woman removed it from his grasp and performed an exotic dance routine, licking the blade as she went.

The street kids up here are a different breed to their southern counterparts. Many of them are straight up crazy. Malnourished and maligned by Britain’s 1970s industrial wipe-out. No one knows who they are, or what they’re for. And damn do they not give a TOSS.

Today, they can either attach themselves to the vestiges of the shopping center, or try to make something of themselves in their own way.  Fortunately, Maggie left behind a playground of  abandoned structures to help facilitate this.

After a good few months of activity, the building found itself fully sealed once more. Security patrols the grounds, alarms function as intended. Soon, it’ll be converted into a block of flats.

Taking to the streets with those who had partied demonstrates their renewed bravery. They look at empty buildings with a view to explore; their desire to party is now backed up by the blind courage required to make it happen, whatever the weather.

Kids who met in school once again met in the police station. A few of the craziest inspired a bunch of the others. Now the group wakes up in the morning, desiring a party to call their own in a place more dangerous, but much more fun, than home.

Thanks to the anonymous subjects
Images, words, video by Max Auberon