Arcades
It was the Victorians who gave us amusement arcades, or ‘sports arcades’ as they called them. Initially, they were the sideshows of the British seaside town, a racy adjunct to the fairground stalls and rides that were seen as tame entertainment for the family at rest. One day’s annual holiday spent on a windswept shingle beach, the chance of a glance at a naughty postcard and perhaps a cockle or two. Those were the days. Soot-covered trains transporting everyone up and down from the metropolis for a blast of wide (grey) blue horizon.
Hastings was no exception, with its pier a masterpiece of pocket-emptying entertainment. Sadly, like many others, the pier was burnt down and we wait in anticipation for its resurrection – courtesy of a recent £11.4m Lottery grant and a determined local campaign. Whether it will find room for an ironic corner of vintage one-arm bandits remains to be seen.
In the meantime all that is left is the aptly named Amusement Arcade, a lurid orange elongated shed that occupies a large chunk of the seafront and houses the children’s drug of choice – the penny falls machines and crane grabbers. But even its days may be numbered. Fuelled by the new developments in home computers and graphics downloads, most old-fashioned arcades are struggling to compete. I am confl cted about standing up for what is seen as a vice by many (and an eyesore from my window) but like the local pub, the seaside amusement arcade is surely a part of our cultural landscape.
Bizarrely, my father-in-law once made a spirited attempt to amend the Gaming Act and ban the introduction of fruit machines into saloon bars and he may have had a point. Their insistent chimes are deeply disturbing to the contemplative drinker but in the arcade they are aural wallpaper.
Still, since the government replaced VAT with the more unwieldy Machine Games Duty, the British Amusement Industry has been in steep decline. According to its representatives, BACTA, over 200 arcades have closed in the last two years. It may just be the fashion of course. But if you have fond memories of wet weekends willing a giant teddy to drop into the tray below, then perhaps it’s time to go and spend a penny. Or two.
Next week: Drab is in…
Hastings was no exception, with its pier a masterpiece of pocket-emptying entertainment. Sadly, like many others, the pier was burnt down and we wait in anticipation for its resurrection – courtesy of a recent £11.4m Lottery grant and a determined local campaign. Whether it will find room for an ironic corner of vintage one-arm bandits remains to be seen.
In the meantime all that is left is the aptly named Amusement Arcade, a lurid orange elongated shed that occupies a large chunk of the seafront and houses the children’s drug of choice – the penny falls machines and crane grabbers. But even its days may be numbered. Fuelled by the new developments in home computers and graphics downloads, most old-fashioned arcades are struggling to compete. I am confl cted about standing up for what is seen as a vice by many (and an eyesore from my window) but like the local pub, the seaside amusement arcade is surely a part of our cultural landscape.
Bizarrely, my father-in-law once made a spirited attempt to amend the Gaming Act and ban the introduction of fruit machines into saloon bars and he may have had a point. Their insistent chimes are deeply disturbing to the contemplative drinker but in the arcade they are aural wallpaper.
Still, since the government replaced VAT with the more unwieldy Machine Games Duty, the British Amusement Industry has been in steep decline. According to its representatives, BACTA, over 200 arcades have closed in the last two years. It may just be the fashion of course. But if you have fond memories of wet weekends willing a giant teddy to drop into the tray below, then perhaps it’s time to go and spend a penny. Or two.
Next week: Drab is in…