Patrick Hurley

It is a pleasure to serve, Ms Furniss. I want to tell a story about my own background and how it relates to the concept of culture-led growth. I grew up in the ’70s and ’80s in the north-west of England in a town called Prescot, about 15 miles or so from my Southport constituency that was dominated for decades by the factory site of an industrial cable manufacturer. The town adopted the cable factory almost as a part of its identity. Ask anyone for miles around, and they would say, “Oh, Prescot—that’s where they make the cables.” The town’s football club is still called Prescot Cables. When I was a little boy, I used to make Lego models of the machinery that I could see through the factory gates that I passed on my way to school. The factory hooter, telling the workers when their shift was open, could be heard all over the town, and on new year’s eve it would blow especially at midnight to bring in the new year. The importance of that place to the town cannot be overstated. Then they closed the factory down. Hundreds of well-paid jobs were gone. The next generation of lads growing up would not be making Lego models of the factory any more. There is nothing special about that story; it is one that is repeated everywhere. But there is a positive element, because over the last decade the town has been transformed through culture. There has long been a rumour—probably untroubled by fact—that in the 1590s William Shakespeare visited Prescot to escape the plague. Based on that rumour, 20 years ago a small group of cultural practitioners decided to build an Elizabethan-style, 500-capacity theatre on the site of a big old bus stop in the town. People laughed; the council leader actually said, “When I announced the plan in the council chamber, quite a few people started laughing”. They are not laughing now, because there is indeed a playhouse on the site of that old bus stop, training up young people in the creative industries, the arts and performance. The £40 million capital investment that was brought in was only the start of the story, though, because the theatre is attracting people back into the town. It has a positive multiplier effect. The jobs are coming back; cafés are opening where there used to be bookmakers; a community arts organisation is now going into schools to inspire children into a career in the creative industries. It would not surprise me if some of those children started building Lego models of the playhouse. Here is my point: the destiny of a town is not set in stone. It can be changed. Commitment to cultural infrastructure can reverse a downward slide. Change can happen off the back of cultural improvement. My hometown proves that, but we have also done similarly in my new home in Southport since I was elected. We have a year of culture in 2026. There will be an incredible sound and light installation taking over the town, turning it into a giant rainbow. There will be an outdoor ballroom in April, with 150 years of music and dance played out, and our favourite works of fiction are coming to life on the streets of the town in October—check out Southport2026.com for more details. We know that that is what a town of culture can do. It will allow the kids of today to look back in wonder in 50 years’ time, and to tell their grandchildren that they were there.