The Noughty Notts: Time Capsule - Nottingham Articles

Brian Harvey’s scalp Removed from said Tesco Value boyband lad’s head in 2000 by local machete-wielding scamps after a guest appearance at The Works, an appalling alco-creche that was populated by the sort of people who feel that the Jeremy Kyle show is something you do, not watch. Its current location is unknown, but according to rumour, the Lord Mayor is required by law to don it and perform Deep naked at Freemason karaoke parties.
A tape recording of Paul Nicholls’ appalling Notts accent on A Thing Called Love Billy Ivory’s 2004 BBC drama series was a veritable love letter to the City of Snot. Unfortunately, us locals were too busy; a) pointing at the screen and shouting; “Ooh! The 42! I’ve been on that bus!”; b) looking in the background for any of their mates slinking by, and; c) sputtering with outrage at the mardy one in EastEnders going “Eeeh, 'eckers peckers, me dooook, tha’s a reight tastuh bit uh croompit, ‘appen ahv foll in looov with yoh”
The smell of The Bomb The Bomb on Bridlesmith Gate was – by far – the most shocking loss to the local clubbing scene this decade, but Christ on a crisp packet, did it funk. Imagine a combination of fricasseed armpit, fermented alcopop and the stench of Bernard Manning’s piss-soaked trousers that have been left on a radiator all day. The venue is now the location of a ponce bar of the type that Fourth Division footballers frequent, and now stinks for an entirely different reason.
A bag of industrial-strength weed Once upon a time, marijuana made you a bit giggly and up for doing mad stuff. Nowadays, thanks to the industrious work of people in attics with easy access to lampposts, its now green heroin for people who are interested in finding out what a brain haemorrhage feels like and sitting there like an orangutan that’s been licking lead paint all day. And guess which city produces the strongest weed in the UK, with a THC over twice the strength of normal skunk?
The Forest ‘We’re Serious About Promotion – Are You?’ letter In 2060, when the world’s natural resources have fully depleted and the last few hunks of coal are in museums, the nation’s homes will be powered by elderly Forest fans, hooked up to the National Grid, exuding mega-ergs of embarrassed heat by being forced to look at the 2004-05 season ticket letter which promised promotion to the Premiership, and delivered relegation to League One. And during power surges, they'll be made to watch a video of the Yeovil playoff game.
A chunk of the wire that surrounded the Square Berlin had their Wall, Japan had its Tenko, or whatever it was called - and for three years, Nottingham had its own barricaded-up monument when the Square turned itself into a massive building site. But it was all worth it in 2007, as the fences were torn down and skateboarding Nu-Metallers who had got trapped inside were tearfully reunited with their mates (who were now Emos, and scared of them).
A fake NUS card This was the decade where the city centre finally became a whopping great campus, as certain establishments that should have known better spent nine months of the year yanking apart their arse cheeks for Tristran and Arabella, and the remaining three months in the summer moaning that locals wouldn’t support them. Obviously, if one can't can’t beat ‘em, one must join ‘em – courtesy of a mate of a mate who had access to a laminator at work.
A steak bake from the 24-hour Greggs We were promised hoverboots, spangly all-in-one catsuits and three-course meals in a pill this decade, but something even better happened; the opportunity to buy three steak bakes and a cake in the shape of a cat’s head at 3am, from a shop protected by bouncers, as if it were the only baker’s shop in Mad Max. Only three cities in the country can deliver this sort of quality dining experience. None of them are Derby or Leicester. Ha!