Not-so-secret world of the cannabis social clubs
Around 160 have sprung up around the country, with police allowing the joint enterprises to flourish
To passers-by, the monthly Saturday afternoon gathering of 150 people on Eastney beach near Portsmouth could be a family picnic. From afar, you can see a barbecue, children playing with the pebbles and a raffle table covered with prizes.
But look a little closer and you will see the raffle numbers are attached to Rizla cigarette rolling papers, herb grinders and bongs.
A member of the group will ask those who approach to see their membership card, and there will be a telltale smell in the air, which nearby police have chosen to overlook.
This week, a spotlight has been thrown on cannabis social clubs, where people gather to smoke and consume the drug in public venues such as town halls, office blocks, beaches, cafés and pubs.
The clubs began seven years ago as a way for people who used the drug to treat medical conditions to socialise. Now, there are 160 across the country, stretching from north of Aberdeen to south of Newquay.
The UK Cannabis Social Clubs (UKCSC) is an umbrella organisation that represents and regulates all outlets. Founded in 2011, it wants to legalise the drug and introduce those who consume it to one another.
Individual outlets operate in a similar way to private members’ clubs: people must pay to join and verify their age and identity before they are given membership cards and access to the location and dates of events.
Members include everyone from doctors and nurses to architects, MPS’ families, barristers and bank managers. The exact number of members is unknown, but each club averages around 300. Brighton, the largest club, has more than 700, according to UKCSC.
“It’s like a pub without the drink and the trouble,” says Sy Dingam, chairman of the Hampshire Cannabis Community, which organised the event on the beach. As is typical of the clubs, members in Hampshire range from 18 (the minimum age) to 70-something, with the average person in their 40s. Up to 80 per cent use cannabis for medical conditions, such as multiple sclerosis, depression and Crohn’s disease. Police turn a blind eye. “Everybody uses it like it’s legal and the police don’t do anything; they’ve got real crimes to sort out,” says Mr Dingam. Last night, at the Teesside Cannabis Club on the third floor of an industrial estate unit, a short walk from a police station, there was a steady trickle of members, mostly men. They usually expect at least 30 people. A trainee barrister was out of town, but usually pops in.
Christine Taylor sits behind a reception desk in the former call centre, joint in hand, serving customers chocolate, crisps and, on occasion, ham and cheese toasties for £2. “Everyone looks out for each other here. There has never been any trouble” she says.
The club has four rooms. Inside a garish blue space is a pool table, while an air hockey table takes pride of place in a room painted purple. In a red room, which acts as a “no smoking” living room, the leather sofas are facing towards a television tuned to BBC One.
An extractor fan is working in overdrive but the air still hangs thick. You could catch a whiff from outside, but Michael Fisher, the club founder, says the only police visit they have had in four years was from a police and crime commissioner, Arfon Jones, from North Wales, who has said he is “sympathetic” to the clubs.
Sitting in the corner of the fourth room, around a table emblazoned with the club’s emblem, is an engineering student who is just about to start a master’s degree.
“I’ve got a career plan, I graduated with a 2:1 and I know where I want to go. There are lots of civil engineering jobs in the North East. I feel a bit alienated at university and I have anxiety, so I come here. Where’s the harm in that?” he says.
UKCSC says it does not support drug dealing and that its members grow their own plants for personal use. But some admit to growing excess amounts as part of “collectives” and trading it among themselves.
Mr Fisher admits: “Members grow five or six plants then trade the cannabis at the club. They don’t want to knock on ‘Nasty Nigel’ who deals class As and other drugs,” he adds. “If you need medicine, we can source it cheaply.”
Mr Fisher started the Teesside club after his father died. He spent around £17,000 of his inheritance creating cannabis-based medicines, including oil and creams, and distributing them to people with conditions such as cancer and psoriasis.
Then, after a holiday to Spain in 2013 where he visited a cannabis social club, he decided to create a franchise.
The club is one of only 13 that have a permanent venue. “We rent this place for £9,000 a year. The owner is a wealthy Lib Dem supporter who is fully aware of what we are doing,” says Mr Fisher.
“Getting a premises is a real issue,” says Greg de Hoedt, chairman of UKCSC. “They’re not-for-profit so it’s hard to fund and landlords aren’t always willing to rent.”
A “more upper class” club in east London has 500 members and operates in a multi-level 1,000 sq ft warehouse. “It has a lot of finesse to it,” says Mr De Hoedt. “They have a vegan chef who holds fine dining events.
“Like Fight Club, members are asked not to tell anyone unless you need to.”
Sarah, a 30-year-old sales manager and member of the Brighton club who smokes cannabis for anxiety, says events are advertised in private text messages and on social media.
She is one of the few female members in the UK clubs, which are 70 to 80 per cent male. “I think the clubs would benefit from more women,” she says. “But I feel entirely safe with the guys, much more than with the drinking population.”
Rhys, a 44-year-old senior manager in the public sector, has created a franchise in Cardiff. He has been smoking cannabis since he was 16, but says he uses it now to alleviate pain from arthritis.
“I’m highly regarded in my profession but I can’t come out as a cannabis user,” he says. “I don’t want to be part of a black market, work with criminals or buy it on the street.”
The Cardiff club plans to host its first event at a restaurant in the autumn. Mr Jones, the PCC, will be invited as a guest of honour.
Rhys, who is an honorary member of a professional body, says, “We’re no different to a fine wine, cigar or whisky connoisseurs club. The establishment would be completely surprised if they came to one of our events.”
‘Members don’t want to knock on the door of Nasty Nigel, who deals Class As and other drugs. If you need medicine, we can source it cheaply’