Breathalysers: A case of bad breath

By Rob Willock

- Last updated on GMT

Rob Willock: 'I’d been made to feel like a criminal'
Rob Willock: 'I’d been made to feel like a criminal'
I was breathalysed once. In 2002. At 3am on a deserted dual carriageway. Admittedly I’d been speeding. A bit.

I was breathalysed once. In 2002. At 3am on a deserted dual carriageway. Admittedly I’d been speeding. A bit.

But I thought the presence of three policemen, two cop cars and a speed gun on a deserted stretch of straight, dry, well-lit highway at that time of the morning was overkill. And I was righteously indignant as they waved me to a stop and made their sarcastic “morning Mr Mansell”-style remarks.

“Accident blackspot, is it?” I retorted in kind. “Or are we simply fundraising for the local constabulary’s Christmas party?”

But then, the dreaded breathalyser was produced, and my ‘smart-arsery’ instantly evaporated.

I’d been at an industry event that evening and had enjoyed a couple of glasses of Champagne to celebrate winning an award, and was already annoyed at myself for having taken the car.

I’d had to wend my way back through south London to drop off several drunk colleagues and had suffered the inevitable passenger trash talk and bad singing that is the fate of the designated driver, and was now only a mile from home.

This was adding insult to injury. And potentially worse. As it happened I blew green — not even amber — and was sent on my way with three points on my licence, a £60 fine and a mixture of anger and relief.

For a brief moment, I’d been made to feel like a criminal. And despite rationally knowing I had nothing to fear from a breath test, the mere production of the kit led to immediate feelings of guilt and panic. And that’s why I can’t go along with the idea of pub or nightclub doormen using breathalysers to test customers for drunkenness.

Being picked out of a queue for a breath test in full public view is not my idea of the sort of greeting I’m looking for on a night out.

“Welcome to the Red Lion; now blow into this tube… keep going until the machine beeps. OK, let’s see if we’re going to let you in.”

I can fully appreciate the value of some objective measure of sobriety, and how that might defuse unpleasant arguments when people arrive at venues pre-loaded to the max.

But I can also imagine it causing more aggro than it prevents. Moreover, is this really what the on-trade is coming to?

I read the results of a survey from VoucherCodes.co.uk earlier this week, which found that as the clocks go back and the evenings get darker, some 80% of Brits will switch into hibernation mode, choosing cosy nights in with the family over nights on the town with friends.

And who can blame them when the house is so warm, the sofa is so comfy, the supermarket booze is so cheap and the TV is so compelling? And when their prospects for an evening out at the pub might involve the humiliation of a breath test in front of their friends, colleagues and neighbours.

What other business would treat its customers this way?

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