Steve Regan, King of Hull Column 15 April 2004

OUR modern lives are plagued by pathological restlessness. We are never satisfied, always wanting to improve or change things or to move on to where we imagine the grass will be greener. This restlessness afflicts everyone to a degree. Do you know anyone who is perfectly contented, with his or her job, or lack of a job, emotional life, family circumstances or home? I recently met someone I hadn't seen for several years and she has a new grouse. She can't stand middle England and middle English values, apparently. This women (let's call her Kate though that's not her real name), appears to have it all - a good marriage, two lovely children and a large and beautiful house in idyllic Stratford-upon- Avon. The family isn't short of a bob or two.

Her restlessness is focused on Stratford. It's a prosperous and comfortable town and that's precisely the trouble. Kate, you see, is heartily fed-up with the place and all the posh people who live there. She tells me: Everyone is so miserable and snooty and there's nothing going on in the evenings. People have such sniffy and judgmental attitudes, it is so Middle England it is depressing. The local people do nothing but sit on their money and flaunt their status symbols. A lot of the people who choose to live in Stratford have made a pile and moved there because property prices are sky high and they know they won't have to live among riff-raff.

Oh dear. While Kate was telling me all this I couldn't help but think about Hull and how it is starting to change with all the redevelopment and the rise in property prices. It could even be said to have become almost a trendy sort of place (or at least that's what the lounge lizards who occupy the Pave bar in Princes Avenue would like us to believe).

My guess is that a lot of people who have made a pile in the grim conurbations of West Yorkshire and the drablands of South Yorkshire have been busy in recent years buying homes in East Yorkshire - particularly in Beverley, which is like a twee southern English cathedral town in architectural appearance if not in character. That sort of look in a town appeals to your average Wessie loadsamoney type - the kind of fat, boastful businessman who wears chunky gold jewellery and has a wife with big hair and tanning salon addiction. But I do not think Hull will ever appeal to middle class northerners of the sort that flock to Beverley. And as I associate Middle English values with sort of nervous curtain-twitching folk who read the (London) Daily Mail every day and see danger and enmity in the face of every stranger, I really don't mind if these people stay away from Hull. Hull remains the most working class city in England and the local attitude is still summed up by the often heard and always ungrammatically rendered phrases I aren't bothered and I aren't doing that.

Hull might have its shopping malls and The Deep and a few more trendoid bars these days, but it is never going to be the Barcelona of the North, whatever what those idiots who wear cog badges in their labels like to pretend. Actually, I quite like the idea of Hull being preserved as it was, say three years ago - wild, dirty and a bit desolate in parts (and I don't just mean the Paragon station).

The authorities should recreate the old Tower nightclub and call it The Northern Museum of Rough Humanity. It would be perfect for sociological field trips organised by universities across the UK.

***

It isn't my habit to use the heartache of a couple's marital problems as grist for this column but I'll make an exception for the Beckhams. I never accepted the media myth that they were a role model family and therefore greatly to be admired. My problem isn't with Victoria. I don't mind that she's a useless singer who became rich too quickly and so opted for a celebrity trash lifestyle. To her credit, she appears to be a good and loving mother.

David is certainly a highly talented footballer but it always baffled me when he was held up as a model dad and husband. The man is incredibly vain. Look at the way he dresses, poses for homoerotic magazine covers and advertising posters. Consider the way he wears his wears his hair all done up like a thirty bob tart's. He gives the impression of fancying himself and that is just not healthy in a father and a husband. The continuing allegations about his private life have kept a grateful nation amused, and have been a welcome alternative to all the grim news from Iraq.

The fact is there's nothing special about Becks apart from his spectacular footballing talent. He's one of a type - a classic glamour boy player who's never been what you might call clever or eloquent. That he is good-looking is undeniable and so we should not be surprised if the birds throw themselves at him. Now that the Tigers are at last (after a century of failure) beginning to do well, I hope that the excitement doesn't go to the players' heads. Heaven forbid that any Hull City (ahem!) star should start to develop himself as a brand in the way that the silly ass Beckham has.

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