The M.E.N joins the Village Angels on a Mad Friday shift that proves that no evening in Manchester is ever the same
The Village Angels have been keeping Manchester’s Gay Village safe for nearly 15 years(Image: LGBT Foundation)
It’s the evening of Mad Friday and the bright lights of the Gay Village are enticing drinkers and partygoers in with special offers and the sweet, sweet sounds of pop icons. There’s drag queens dressed up in their best Christmas fare, and a majority of the revellers have made an effort to look equally as festive.
But, as I walk through Canal Street, amidst it all and as the bars try to lure me in with some of my favourite songs, I’m not here to join them on this occasion. I’m actually about to start a gruelling six hour shift which will see me come face-to-face with the aftermath of partying a little too hard. I’ve joined the Village Angels – an initiative set up by the LGBT Foundation – which looks after those in a vulnerable state, and those who might need some help getting home.
Every Friday and Saturday night, the Angels have – consistently since August 2022 – patrolled the area looking out for anyone who may need some assistance. This could be a simple hug, directions to a hotel, help booking a taxi, basic counselling and even first aid. Next year, the initiative will celebrate its 15th anniversary and it has been hailed by venue owners and emergency services for their assistance on busy evenings.
The Village Angels, a team of volunteers, will be on hand two nights a week for people in need of help or direction(Image: LGBT Foundation)
At 9pm on the dot, I join the team of ten of us to get a briefing on what might happen tonight. We run through some of the events taking place in the city (there’s a gig taking place, for example), and what the picture currently looks like in the Village right now with some of the volunteers recalling how it’s a little quiet at the moment. Our base for the evening, where we will regroup and recharge, is the Haven opposite New York New York. It’s also where service users can come if they need a drink of water, some warmth or to charge their phone.
Asked what I can expect from the next six or so hours, the general conception is that you can never expect how a shift will go. Michelle, one of the shift leaders and who has a background in nursing, tells me: “I compare it to a night in casualty. No two nights are the same, you don’t know what you’ll be faced with. You have to prepare for all scenarios.”
We’re then grouped off to go and walk around the venue. It’s a chance to say hi to the door staff, gather an idea of what’s happening, and, for me, get a sense of my surroundings – now wearing a bright pink Hi-Viz jacket and fearing for the very possible scenario in which someone may ask me for help. Feeling what I believe to be a roll of Sellotape in my jacket pocket, I ask one of the leaders, Zed, what its purpose is. “Oh, that’s a vomit bowl,” they say definitely. “You might need it later on.” Fair enough. No more questions.
No one night for the Angels is ever the same(Image: LGBT Foundation)
Not long after we begin our patrol, my group comes across a woman sitting on the floor crying. She’s being consoled by a friend, but they both look quite drunk. Rachel, one of the volunteers, goes up to speak to the woman and asks how she’s doing. It turns out she’s just received some personal news and, perhaps thanks to the alcohol, she’s now not taking it too well. Having spoken to the woman for a few minutes, Rachel helps her book a taxi and then waits until it arrives.
Rachel has been volunteering for the Angels for around a year now. Training to be a counsellor, she joined to gain a bit of extra experience in the field. She said she grew to enjoy the sense of community it gave her and now offers two evenings a month to the scheme. “It’s really rewarding,” she tells me. “You will always finish a shift and feel like you may have actually made an impact in some way.”
I discover that, like Rachel and Michelle, all the volunteers have their unique story to share – and with an abundance of skills and first aid training to their name that can come in helpful during such a shift – from water safety training, fire safety and all kinds of other first aid merits. My NCTJ training in journalism has never felt so insignificant.
I patrol the streets on Mad Friday with the Village Angels
Another volunteer saw someone collapse in front of her on a night out at the Warehouse Project a few years ago and wanted to be able to help other people if it were to happen again. During my night on shift, she helps a young girl who has collapsed in the street. She’s shaking, vomiting and barely coherent with her speech. A taxi is booked for her to get home safely. When the driver arrives, he gives one look at the woman and quickly drives off. Another is hailed down and she and her friend go home.
Amy, one of the shift leaders, says the Village Angels have a number of rules to keep both its volunteers and the people it helps safe. She explains: “We work on consent – if people don’t want our help then we step away. And we don’t engage with any aggression.” This is one of the reasons why volunteers will never be seen on their own and always in groups.
Having patrolled the street for close to two hours the volunteers and I head back to the Haven. But just a couple of minutes after sitting down, there’s a call on the radio system – which is shared with the door staff to all the venues. The Angels are asked to do a welfare check on a drunk woman outside a venue.
When we arrive at the bar, the woman is lying on the floor – quite glamorously, admittedly – next to a puddle of her own vomit and holding a pint of water. “I’m surprisingly okay, you know,” she tells the volunteers. She reassures everyone that it’s ‘better out than in’, and gets her phone out to show she’s waiting for a taxi to arrive.
On my night with the Angels, we come across a variety of incidents(Image: LGBT Foundation)
As we make the way back through the Village, the volunteers look out for a number of tell-tale signs without ever invading people’s personal space. I try to do the same, struggling to tell whether a group of girls shouting at each other in one smoking area are being particularly rowdy or if they’re just really into the song playing at the bar. Having detected some of the Nicki Minaj lyrics they’re bellowing out, I decide it’s the latter.
“You guys are brilliant,” one person shouts my way as I pass them. “You have saved many a lesbian and gay on my nights out.” Whilst I can’t take the praise personally, I pass it on to the team. It’s far from the only sign of affection directed towards the Angels. Kisses are blown, whoops and cheers are given and, on one occasion, even fist bumps are exchanged. It’s clear there’s a huge amount of respect for the work they do.
In the last year, the Village Angels have supported more than 500 vulnerable people, and had interactions with over 18,000 community members. The scheme, funded by the likes of Andy Burnham’s Greater Manchester Combined Authority, is run on volunteers who, in the last twelve months, have given over 3,354 hours to help those in the Village.
We head back to the Haven for a quick sit down and a brew. “It’s a little manic,” one volunteer Kay says. Asked whether Mad Friday has changed the usual crowd in the Village this evening, she laughs and says: “It’s all very heterosexual tonight. Lots of work dos.” It’s a fun example of the camaraderie the volunteers have. To be offering a Friday night up to do something like this, they clearly have to have some compassion about them – and they all welcome me, a daring journalist looking in on a mere snapshot of their usual routine, with open arms.
Mad Friday turns out to be a varied night for the volunteers
Then, there’s another call on the system. There’s a diabetic woman outside a bar who ‘is not in a good way’. She’s having a seizure and vomiting. When we find her, she is on the floor and surrounded by a group of people. She has now stopped seizing, and the police are with her. Her blood sugar is low, an ambulance has been called. The Angels give her a blanket, but with the officers controlling the situation, it’s decided to leave them to it to not overcrowd the situation.
At the same time, the other group of Angels are dealing with something far more serious. There have been reports of a fight inside one of the venues. Police are also there. Whilst the Angels do not get involved in altercations or aggressive assaults, they are there to help assist bystanders and with basic first aid. There are suggestions one of the people involved may have suffered a dislocated jaw. Some of the Angels involved afterwards are clearly quite shaken up by what they saw, but keep their composure. NWAS later confirm that whilst paramedics attended the scene, nobody was taken to hospital.
Meanwhile, our group attend to another call in from a venue owner. An older man has fallen and hit himself badly. He is bleeding and has a number of open wounds to his face. One of the volunteers, Zed, cleans him up, bandages his face and recommends that he makes his way to A&E. “I really think you should get that checked out,” they say. “You are going to need stitches.” The man says he will get a taxi to hospital but there’s a tone which suggests he may not. It’s all the Angels can do at this point.
Not long after that, there’s another call on the radio. There’s potentially been an altercation between a group and a member of door staff at one of the venues. All volunteers are asked to return to the Haven as it’s deemed to be too unsafe. It’s only when Greater Manchester Police give the call that it’s okay to resume duties that we go back out.
The Village Angels have supported more than 500 vulnerable people, and had interactions with over 18,000 community members in the last year(Image: LGBT Foundation)
Not far from the Haven, as we partake in another patrol, we come across the diabetic woman from earlier. She’s now outside a different venue with another group of people. She has had another seizure and vomited again. The scene is a little chaotic, with the friends all trying to talk over each other to explain the situation to the volunteers. Basically, they were waiting for the ambulance and, frustrated at the long wait, moved on. This time, the Angels insist a taxi to the hospital is booked and that some of her friends join her to make sure she’s safe. After a lengthy debate between who is prepared to go with her, they are eventually sent off in a taxi to be seen at hospital.
It’s a long six hour shift, but by 3am, it’s time to call it a night. A sign off is given on the radio, and the volunteers debrief about what the evening entailed. I tell them how it’s been an eye-opening experience for me to witness just how varied the one night has been. Whilst some say it’s not the busiest of nights, it certainly has felt like it to me.
What stands out to me most is how, on many occasions, the Angels were often the first people called to each scene. Before the police or paramedics were able to attend, it was the volunteers themselves who were treated like First Responders – often having to assess the scene and the severity of each situation. It’s a hefty task to take on.
It was really heart-warming for me to not only see how the volunteers took great pride in what they were doing, but how there was also such a respect from the community for what they do. Not everywhere is lucky enough to have an LGBTQ+ neighbourhood, and of the ones that exist, they don’t all have a team of Angels able to patrol the streets each weekend either.
Whilst I’ve, thankfully, never had to get help or assistance from them, there is a comfort knowing they’re around if I need them or if something were to happen during a night out. It’s a vital service. And it’s one we’re so fortunate to have. You can find more information about the Village Angels at LGBT Foundation here.