Review
Addiction
Community
Culture
Film & TV
4 min read

This City is Ours – truth and lies about the global drugs trade

The drug-dealing family drama reflects the impact of the drugs world.

Henry Corbett, a vicar in Liverpool and chaplain to Everton Football Club.  

  

A montage of a grown-up family.
Family saga.
BBC.

I asked a thoughtful Scouser and cinephile “What do you think of This City is Ours? – the crime drama TV series set in Liverpool. I wondered if he would hate all the talk of drugs, the power games, the violence and that the series about a global trade is located in our city. 

“Well, it’s true.” 

As a priest in Liverpool, I have taken the funerals of drug dealers and users, including one where the family quoted me Jesus’ saying, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.” I have known too many people caught up first in the heroin trade of the 1980s and then more recently with cocaine. 

I agreed that the series is truthful, and on many levels. Those involved in the criminal world of illegal drugs are still people.

I remember Peter (not his real name) who I knew when he was a young lad in the youth club I helped with. He was sitting in our kitchen with a mug of tea. He had bruises all over his face because of a drugs debt he hadn’t paid. One of my daughters came in to get something out of the fridge, and Peter apologised to her for the state of his face, explained it was because of being involved in drugs, and advised her strongly against it. He then asked after her interests and what she enjoyed and was ‘made up’ – happy - when she spoke of liking art. My daughter never forgot that conversation.  She learned that people in the drugs trade were still people and could be kind, and that the illegal drugs world was to be avoided. People are both made in the image of God, capable of love and concern, and also flawed and able to be drawn into a trade that affects people so badly across the world.  

So, the eight episodes of the first series of This City Is Ours show that the global criminal world of illegal drugs is brutal, violent and full of jeopardy. There are chilling deaths, executions, and vengeance. All truthful to that world. There are power struggles and a vicious family succession battle too. But there are also scenes of the same family at the dinner table, of the longing for a baby with a girlfriend who is very much loved. One moment a character is a hard-hearted killer and the next moment a tender partner. That is so truthful to the different compartments that people can live in: someone can be a loving son who cares for their mother and a ruthless power-hungry toxic gangster. 

The consequences of that unnecessary “necessary” action are tragic.

A further truth that I see at every funeral is the ripple effect on partners, siblings, parents, the wider family, and friends, and outward across the community. Every episode of the show features family members: some in the gang, some outside the gang, some wanting a cut of the lucrative proceeds, others desperate to get out from this dangerous, chilling world. What we do can massively affect others close to us. So often family and friends, and a community, must live with the consequences of actions taken in a criminal underworld they are often excluded from and fearful of. Even young children can be affected and dragged into a battle for power.     

So, there are truths, but what about the lies? Here’s two stand outs: 

“Are we safe?”   “Yes, babe.” 

We know they are not safe. Definitely not. There’s a target on your back, and often on the family’s back as well. 

And the second: 

“It was necessary”. Or “f***ing necessary”. 

No, it wasn’t. He didn’t have to become engaged in a succession struggle for power, money, and control. He didn’t have to kill someone he looked up to, respected, even loved. The consequences of that unnecessary “necessary” action are tragic.  

Then there is the third lie about loyalty and trust. That false sense of being in a gang that will look after you and look out for you, that will secure your future and give you a sense of being someone who counts. From early on, this series shows that people are expendable, can be shot and tossed over a cliff, and that person you looked up to may be an informant to the police. That is maybe how they have stayed out of prison.  

A fourth lie the series so truthfully nails is the notion that it is easy to walk away once you have seen through the attractions of money, of Spanish villas, of designer gear, of fragile power. It very often isn’t. You may desperately want a worthwhile life that brings good not bad, peace not killings, a freedom from looking over your shoulder and from a troubled conscience. But there may be money demanded by your supplier, there may be enemies you have made along the way. I have known people successfully move away from it all but that has often only been after a spell in prison, and with a sound alternative - whether a job to keep, a daughter to look after, or a move away. 

Wisdom is a much-valued quality throughout history. Five of the Bible’s 66 books are often called Wisdom books and Jesus called Christians to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” This City is Ours is beautifully shot, expertly scripted, brilliantly acted, and it truthfully lifts the lid on the world of the drug-dealing criminal underworld and on some of the lies peddled in that world. And I did explain in the funeral service that when Jesus said “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword” he was not recommending that way of life but warning against it.

Article
Care
Culture
Economics
Generosity
4 min read

Parenthood Inc: high burn rate, infinite upside

Raising kids is the ultimate moonshot, with returns measured in love, not cashflow

Imogen is a writer, mum, and priest on a new housing development in the South-West of England. 

A baby sleeps curled up.
Sorena.
Hessam Nabavi on Unsplash

Even before they are born, they demand things – a bed or two, Babygros, the cute paraphernalia, like the baby bath used for a few months then outgrown. And, as they grow, they only get more expensive.  

Children apparently cost us over £14,000 a year. According to the Child Poverty Action Group's annual survey, children cost couples £260,000 to raise to adulthood, while the bill rises to £280,000 for a single parent. That is a lot of money. The spread of these costs is heavily weighted towards the early years of a child’s life. Initial set-up, as with many new ventures, is expensive and the list of seemingly essential items is extensive. Childcare during the pre-school years can also up the household bills by £200 per week, causing many parents to question whether work is ‘worth it’. 

It seems though, that it is not only returning to work that is uneconomical. In fact, having babies full stop doesn’t appear to be an economically attractive option. Over the last 15 years, birth rates in the UK have significantly declined. In 2024 the average number of live children a women would have during her life was down to 1.41. UK fertility is low. People are just not having babies. 

There are many reasons for this. Access to contraception, women’s increased equality and opportunity in the workplace, and concerns about finances mean that couples wait longer to begin a family than in previous generations. People in their twenties are perhaps more interested in financial stability rather than family procreativity and women want to get ahead in their chosen career paths before taking time out to have children. Everything has got more expensive, including having children. The world is a big place and desire for travel, adventure, and exploration means couples do not want to be ‘tied down’ with children while they are young.  

The impact of having a child on a woman’s career has been shown to be significantly greater than her male counterpart. I observe mothers, anecdotally and statistically, to be more likely to take time out of work, move to part-time employment, and work in lower-income jobs, than fathers. This is not only something observable in the UK, but it is a universal feature of motherhood. Perhaps becoming a mother is just not ‘worth it’.  

Many concerns about declining birth rates often come down to economics. Without the next generation of workers, our welfare state is headed for stormy seas. An aging society risks a nation flooded with retired dependants without the balance of the tax-paying, working population to support them. Although children are expensive, they are of integral economic value to our functioning society. Even on a micro level, children are increasingly keeping aging parents afloat, supporting them by contributing to the living, housing, and caring costs.  

 Opinions inevitably differ and cause controversy, but for me, the rational economics of parenthood does not contribute to my desire to have children. I do not see our children as a financial investment awaiting a hefty return. I have not embarked on procreation as a means to a stable retirement. Rightly or wrongly, I have not undertaken a cost-benefit analysis of having children. However, I understand it to have great value beyond the numbers. 

To play a part in raising the next generation is one of my life’s greatest joys. To slow down and witness our boys learning the world day by day is an act of resistance against those rational laws of economic productivity and market capitalism. Much of my time does not appear to be ‘well spent’, but in the giggles, the endless mealtimes, the repeated instructions of ‘sit down’, ‘be gentle’, and ‘listen’, there are deep wells of meaning and significance. While some choose to focus on the pouring of economic resources into their children, I choose to focus on the outpouring of my heart. As I give of myself, they grow. I love them, feed them, teach them, wash them at bathtime, and tell them stories of the world, of faith, and of life. As I am poured out, they are formed as tiny humans of unquantifiable value.  

This kind of value, I think, reflects more accurately the value we have before God. Our value as children of God. There is a story about a man who sees a pearl. The pearl is super expensive. This man wants the pearl so much that he sells his possessions, giving everything up so he can have it. Perhaps the pearl is God’s Kingdom, perhaps it is the message of Jesus, or perhaps, as my son once thought, it is us. We are the pearl of infinite, unquantifiable value to God and he gave up everything for us. 

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