Latest news with #KingsCross
The Sun
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Celeb osteopath who parked outside uni halls with telescope and camera to perv on female students undressing is jailed
A CELEB osteopath who parked outside uni halls with a telescope and camera to perv on female students undressing has been jailed. Torben Hersborg wore a balaclava to hide his face and lay in the back of his Lexus to spy on the women in King's Cross, London. 3 The 64-year-old, whose celeb clients included Fearne Cotton and actress Anna Friel, was also spotted crawling around in the vehicle while peeking through the window. He has now been jailed for three years and five months and made the subject of a 10-year Sexual Harm Prevention Order (SHPO). The osteopath has pleaded guilty to three charges of observing a person doing a private act "for the purpose of obtaining sexual gratification". Snaresbrook Crown Court heard the offences took place on December 10, 14 and 21 last year. Varinder Hayre, prosecuting, said: "On December 21 at about 9pm, a member of the public reported that a male in a car has been taking photographs and videos of students in university students' accommodation. "The member of the public also said he has seen the male in the car about four years ago." The bystander also called police on December 10 and 14 but officers did not attend, the court heard. Hersborg was caught by police wearing black gloves and had black plastic bags lining the seats. When asked what he was doing, Hersborg claimed he had gone for drinks but felt like he was going to "pass out" on the way home so pulled over. But officers discovered a battery in his pocket and a camera and telescope in his car. Police recovered 68 images and videos that showed a woman in just a T-shirt, a different female sitting in her bedroom and another "seemingly getting dressed". A search was carried out at Hersborg's home and a large quantity of digital devices was seized. He gave no comment in his police interview, except to say he was "sorry for the whole situation". Hersborg is the director of the Central London Osteopathy and Sports Clinic in Old Street. His social media included video of a treatment session with Strictly star Viscountess Emma Weymouth, as well as photos with Oscar-winning actor Mark Rylance and Rolling Stone Ronnie Wood. Hersborg has also worked with Italian Serie A football team Brescia and the Danish Tennis Federation. He has been suspended from practising as an Osteopath by the General Osteopathic Council. Alex Weichselbaum of the Crown Prosecution Service said: "Hersborg operated in plain sight for too long and, having targeted thousands of women over 12 years, we believe the scale and significance of his offending makes him one of London's most prolific voyeurs. "His meticulously planned acts included setting up secret cameras in his clinic and covertly filming women - both in public and when they thought they were in the privacy of their own homes. "Hersborg deliberately abused the trust of his unwitting patients by filming them in intimate positions and targeted strangers for his own sexual gratification. "Women should be free to live their lives without unwanted intrusion – particularly from sexual offenders like Hersborg who deliberately chose to film or photograph them in their most private or intimate moments." 3
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘I've never asked for the approval of conservative white bigots': Reneé Rapp on pop stardom, problem fans, and speaking her mind
'I looove to lie,' sighs Reneé Rapp happily, sounding like a kid who has just discovered a new favourite toy. She's talking about using creative licence in her songs, and how she realised, while working on her second album, that she didn't have to stick to the truth of her own experience 100% of the time. But for a journalist, the admission – and her apparent glee about it – demands a follow-up: has she lied at all in the last 40 minutes? I expect Rapp, 25, to wave away the question. Instead she pauses, seeming to give it real thought. 'Have I lied? You know, I don't think so,' she eventually concludes. I'm still not sure if I believe her, but that's part of the joy of Reneé Rapp. Whether you're in her company or merely count yourself a fan, she gives the impression of being authentic, outspoken and honest, sometimes to her own detriment. But then, there's a moment – a glint in her eye, or an edge to her tone that tips it into deadpan – when you have to wonder: is she being for real? We're meeting at a cafe in King's Cross on one of the first hot days in June. Even at the discreet corner table, Rapp radiates star power – jewel-tone shirt dress, sweater draped around her shoulders just so, heeled black boots despite the sweltering heat – and that kind of implacable confidence that's both sexy and a bit scary. I don't think the waiting staff recognise her, but they nevertheless seem flustered, bungling her coffee order. In fact, Rapp is more friendly and approachable than suggested by her glamorous, pull-no-punches image and on-screen association with preppy queen bees. Her breakout role was Regina George in the Broadway musical Mean Girls, followed by a turn as initially closeted, privileged daddy's girl Leighton Murray in Mindy Kaling's sitcom The Sex Lives of College Girls. (Queen bee Regina George would never labour to reassure a waiter, as Rapp does, that she was happy – nay, thrilled – with a hot coffee after having ordered a cold one.) Since then, Rapp has also made her name as a pop star. Her debut album, Snow Angel, released in 2023, received positive reviews for its assured, R&B-infused pop. But Rapp's star really began to rise early last year with her press tour for the film adaptation of the Mean Girls musical. From blasting the 'asshole' owner of a tour bus company, to praising rapper (and collaborator) Megan Thee Stallion's ass as 'the best' she's ever seen, to admitting to being ageist against millennial women, Rapp's interviews were candid to the point of chaotic. Instead of opprobrium, her apparently off-the-cuff comments were met with widespread approval online, boosting her profile and sparking a running joke about her apparent lack of a filter: when guest-starring on Saturday Night Live during that time, Rapp was jokingly sentenced to '40 hours of court-ordered media training'. Rapp's reputation for being refreshingly unfiltered, compared with the carefully crafted statements commonly made by celebrities today, initially took her by surprise. 'It's very weird, honestly, to be perceived that way, because I don't really think about it,' she says. It's true that Rapp does seem less guarded than many celebrities of her age and experience, but at the same time, she doesn't court controversy or spout uninformed views. When she set out to become a singer, Rapp continues, 'I never thought about how people would dissect even the way you speak'. It's confusing that she's become known for her media appearances, she says. 'Like, wait, what would a normal response be? A fluffy, nonsense answer?' I'm afraid so, I say; but she's not awaiting confirmation – she's already off, her intensity rising as she speaks. 'To me, that would make me crazy – if I was a journalist, that would drive me fucking up the wall!' (Yes, Reneé.) 'Because I would be like, 'Hang on, we're not even like having a conversation'.' Her eyes behind her blue-tinted aviators flash. 'That would make me insane.' But the expectation that Rapp will always speak her mind has raised the stakes ahead of her second album Bite Me, out next month. The six tracks made available before our conversation were mostly heartfelt love songs, showing off Rapp's powerful voice and confessional lyrics. But the tone was set by the Joan Jett-referencing lead single Leave Me Alone, building on the public image of Rapp as a party-girl pop star who refuses to be tamed. 'Sign a hundred NDAs, but I still say something,' she drawls. In the first major media appearance of her album promo campaign, with comedian Ziwe, Rapp confirmed she'd still not received any media training before going on to discuss her 4.5-star rating on celebrity foot rating site WikiFeet ('I'm so angry, my friends have five!)', whether her great-grandparents owned slaves (she suspects they did) and which she 'gave less of a fuck about: women's rights or gay rights'. (Gay rights, for the record.) But I wonder if – refreshing though it may be – this no-holds-barred persona might sometimes work against Rapp, preventing her from being taken in earnest while seeding the idea that, in her company, anything goes. The day before our interview, Rapp held a Q&A for fans in London that was reportedly derailed by a small group who appeared to have had too many of the Reneé-themed cocktails. Rapp says now that she doesn't feel pressure to be consistently 'iconic' or chill in her press appearances – but she doesn't deny that this Q&A didn't go to plan. Rapp had been looking forward to getting into her new album with fans who cared about the nerdy detail. Instead, she struggled to hear their questions over the disorderly minority. 'Honestly, it just made me sad.' The real sour note came afterwards, when she and Towa Bird – her British musician girlfriend – were rushed by fans while trying to get in a lift. I try to clarify exactly what happened, but Rapp seems unsure of the details herself. 'To be honest, I kept my head down.' But she has no doubt about how it made her feel. 'People running after you, into a fucking elevator bank – it's such weird behaviour,' Rapp says, outraged. 'I was so pissed, I was so upset. I was like: 'You don't get to chase my girlfriend and me – that's not fine'.' At the same time, she sees it as part of the deal of being famous. 'I don't like to be disrespected, but I also understand that I've signed up for this shit, to an extent.' Indeed Rapp's truest ambition was to be a pop star; she got into acting, she's said, as a means to an end. As a child growing up outside Charlotte, North Carolina, she wanted to be Beyoncé – and to get out of her small, now Maga-voting town, Huntersville. 'I just didn't feel very comfortable there,' she says, pointing to her showbusiness aspirations and her emerging sexual identity. Well before she first came out (as bisexual, in 2022; she now identifies as a lesbian), Rapp was the only white girl within her friend group, she says. Her mother would tell her to never turn right out of their neighbourhood – it wasn't safe for her and her friends. 'Everybody has rifles, and if you look at them the wrong way, they will shoot you,' Rapp recalls. Today, she says, 'there're people who live in the neighbourhood that I grew up in, who don't speak to my parents because I'm out.' It doesn't bother Rapp or her family, she says with forceful disdain. 'I've never asked for the approval of conservative white bigots – I'm certainly not going to start now.' She is equally outspoken about Palestine: speaking at the GLAAD Media awards in April 2024, she called for an 'immediate ceasefire and permanent ceasefire', and today has no qualms about denouncing 'the genocide' under way. When I ask if she's ever been advised not to comment, or to use different phrasing, Rapp doesn't say she hasn't. 'It's interesting, people would often mask it as 'That verbiage may make people uncomfortable.' I would argue that people being slaughtered makes me uncomfortable and should in fact make you uncomfortable.' Rapp feels obliged to speak out not just because it's the right thing to do but, she says, because it's so much harder for non-white women. She admits she was shocked when she first moved to New York in 2019, to join Mean Girls on Broadway and discovered 'that people are still conservative bigots there'. Rapp starred in the show for about seven months before Covid brought it to a premature close. Now living with Bird in a 'seemingly white-liberal-ass neighbourhood' of Los Angeles, Rapp says there are 'extremists' a few doors down, with signs in the windows warning 'We're armed'. 'Especially with our current administration, it's just so in your face – the hate for people who could be considered 'other',' she says. 'There's just direct hate, and it's so loud.' When I ask Rapp where she got the confidence to speak her mind, she answers simply: 'I have phenomenal parents.' Her father, Charles, and mother, Denise, instilled in Rapp and her brother the importance of hard work and personal accountability. 'They were just always like: 'Be accountable to yourself, to your friends, to people you don't know,'' she says. What Rapp took away was that 'there's no shame in being wrong, necessarily'; what mattered was being able to 'look in the mirror' and hold your head up high. Though she is grateful for that foundation, it wasn't always easy: even when Rapp was very young, her parents didn't hold back in their feedback on her performances. Rapp recently claimed that Denise even gave her daughter an alliterative name, 'just in case' she wanted to become a pop star. Today her parents are among only a handful of people who she can count on to be brutally honest with her, along with Bird – and maybe 'two people' on her team.'I don't trust anyone,' she says, 'and I don't say that in a 'Oh, no, I feel lonely!' way – I know that there are so many people who are never going to be honest with me. I think everyone is lying to me, all the time.' It perhaps explains her own premium on public-facing authenticity. Even when she says she loves to lie, it seems it's only about the things that don't matter. I put it to Rapp that, where other pop stars might be blandly noncommittal, her own strategy for getting around difficult questions she doesn't want to answer is to deploy humour. 'Exactly,' she says, like I'm her pupil giving her a correct answer. Of course, a veneer of authenticity can also be a way of obfuscating what someone really thinks. Her single Leave Me Alone is a prime example: the line where Rapp crows 'I took my sex life with me, now the show ain't fuckin'!' went viral for seeming to allude to her departure from The Sex Lives of College Girls (there were rumours that cast members had questioned her sexuality). Online, the show's fans decried the line as tacky and disrespectful of the role that made her famous; Rapp's fans said she was only being 'iconic' again. Rapp only stirred the pot further in her interview with Ziwe, describing Sex Lives as being 'such a good experience' in a way that played equally as sarcastic or sincere. 'I wish I could go back,' she said, deadpan. Even whip-smart Ziwe seemed to fall for it, inquiring: 'Really?' 'Nope!' Rapp shot back. When I tell her about the online debate raging over her intentions, Rapp gives a Cheshire cat grin. 'It's like Beyoncé said: 'You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation.'' Having previously approached songwriting as an exercise in truth-telling, Rapp discovered with this album that she could embellish her experiences and even make things up without sacrificing emotional truth. She doesn't feel the need to respond to speculation about what her songs are about. I ask Rapp if she gave her former Sex Lives co-stars a heads-up about the 'show ain't fuckin'' line. 'I didn't write it,' she says instantly. I'm momentarily flummoxed. Rapp spies her chance and runs with it. 'I've not heard of that show, is it good?' she continues, cocking her head as though earnestly engaged. It takes me a beat too long to realise – she's messing with me, right? 'Yep.' Reneé Rapp's new album, Bite Me, is released on 1 August.
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘I've never asked for the approval of conservative white bigots': Reneé Rapp on pop stardom, problem fans, and speaking her mind
'I looove to lie,' sighs Reneé Rapp happily, sounding like a kid who has just discovered a new favourite toy. She's talking about using creative licence in her songs, and how she realised, while working on her second album, that she didn't have to stick to the truth of her own experience 100% of the time. But for a journalist, the admission – and her apparent glee about it – demands a follow-up: has she lied at all in the last 40 minutes? I expect Rapp, 25, to wave away the question. Instead she pauses, seeming to give it real thought. 'Have I lied? You know, I don't think so,' she eventually concludes. I'm still not sure if I believe her, but that's part of the joy of Reneé Rapp. Whether you're in her company or merely count yourself a fan, she gives the impression of being authentic, outspoken and honest, sometimes to her own detriment. But then, there's a moment – a glint in her eye, or an edge to her tone that tips it into deadpan – when you have to wonder: is she being for real? We're meeting at a cafe in King's Cross on one of the first hot days in June. Even at the discreet corner table, Rapp radiates star power – jewel-tone shirt dress, sweater draped around her shoulders just so, heeled black boots despite the sweltering heat – and that kind of implacable confidence that's both sexy and a bit scary. I don't think the waiting staff recognise her, but they nevertheless seem flustered, bungling her coffee order. In fact, Rapp is more friendly and approachable than suggested by her glamorous, pull-no-punches image and on-screen association with preppy queen bees. Her breakout role was Regina George in the Broadway musical Mean Girls, followed by a turn as initially closeted, privileged daddy's girl Leighton Murray in Mindy Kaling's sitcom The Sex Lives of College Girls. (Queen bee Regina George would never labour to reassure a waiter, as Rapp does, that she was happy – nay, thrilled – with a hot coffee after having ordered a cold one.) Since then, Rapp has also made her name as a pop star. Her debut album, Snow Angel, released in 2023, received positive reviews for its assured, R&B-infused pop. But Rapp's star really began to rise early last year with her press tour for the film adaptation of the Mean Girls musical. From blasting the 'asshole' owner of a tour bus company, to praising rapper (and collaborator) Megan Thee Stallion's ass as 'the best' she's ever seen, to admitting to being ageist against millennial women, Rapp's interviews were candid to the point of chaotic. Instead of opprobrium, her apparently off-the-cuff comments were met with widespread approval online, boosting her profile and sparking a running joke about her apparent lack of a filter: when guest-starring on Saturday Night Live during that time, Rapp was jokingly sentenced to '40 hours of court-ordered media training'. Rapp's reputation for being refreshingly unfiltered, compared with the carefully crafted statements commonly made by celebrities today, initially took her by surprise. 'It's very weird, honestly, to be perceived that way, because I don't really think about it,' she says. It's true that Rapp does seem less guarded than many celebrities of her age and experience, but at the same time, she doesn't court controversy or spout uninformed views. When she set out to become a singer, Rapp continues, 'I never thought about how people would dissect even the way you speak'. It's confusing that she's become known for her media appearances, she says. 'Like, wait, what would a normal response be? A fluffy, nonsense answer?' I'm afraid so, I say; but she's not awaiting confirmation – she's already off, her intensity rising as she speaks. 'To me, that would make me crazy – if I was a journalist, that would drive me fucking up the wall!' (Yes, Reneé.) 'Because I would be like, 'Hang on, we're not even like having a conversation'.' Her eyes behind her blue-tinted aviators flash. 'That would make me insane.' But the expectation that Rapp will always speak her mind has raised the stakes ahead of her second album Bite Me, out next month. The six tracks made available before our conversation were mostly heartfelt love songs, showing off Rapp's powerful voice and confessional lyrics. But the tone was set by the Joan Jett-referencing lead single Leave Me Alone, building on the public image of Rapp as a party-girl pop star who refuses to be tamed. 'Sign a hundred NDAs, but I still say something,' she drawls. In the first major media appearance of her album promo campaign, with comedian Ziwe, Rapp confirmed she'd still not received any media training before going on to discuss her 4.5-star rating on celebrity foot rating site WikiFeet ('I'm so angry, my friends have five!)', whether her great-grandparents owned slaves (she suspects they did) and which she 'gave less of a fuck about: women's rights or gay rights'. (Gay rights, for the record.) But I wonder if – refreshing though it may be – this no-holds-barred persona might sometimes work against Rapp, preventing her from being taken in earnest while seeding the idea that, in her company, anything goes. The day before our interview, Rapp held a Q&A for fans in London that was reportedly derailed by a small group who appeared to have had too many of the Reneé-themed cocktails. Rapp says now that she doesn't feel pressure to be consistently 'iconic' or chill in her press appearances – but she doesn't deny that this Q&A didn't go to plan. Rapp had been looking forward to getting into her new album with fans who cared about the nerdy detail. Instead, she struggled to hear their questions over the disorderly minority. 'Honestly, it just made me sad.' The real sour note came afterwards, when she and Towa Bird – her British musician girlfriend – were rushed by fans while trying to get in a lift. I try to clarify exactly what happened, but Rapp seems unsure of the details herself. 'To be honest, I kept my head down.' But she has no doubt about how it made her feel. 'People running after you, into a fucking elevator bank – it's such weird behaviour,' Rapp says, outraged. 'I was so pissed, I was so upset. I was like: 'You don't get to chase my girlfriend and me – that's not fine'.' At the same time, she sees it as part of the deal of being famous. 'I don't like to be disrespected, but I also understand that I've signed up for this shit, to an extent.' Indeed Rapp's truest ambition was to be a pop star; she got into acting, she's said, as a means to an end. As a child growing up outside Charlotte, North Carolina, she wanted to be Beyoncé – and to get out of her small, now Maga-voting town, Huntersville. 'I just didn't feel very comfortable there,' she says, pointing to her showbusiness aspirations and her emerging sexual identity. Well before she first came out (as bisexual, in 2022; she now identifies as a lesbian), Rapp was the only white girl within her friend group, she says. Her mother would tell her to never turn right out of their neighbourhood – it wasn't safe for her and her friends. 'Everybody has rifles, and if you look at them the wrong way, they will shoot you,' Rapp recalls. Today, she says, 'there're people who live in the neighbourhood that I grew up in, who don't speak to my parents because I'm out.' It doesn't bother Rapp or her family, she says with forceful disdain. 'I've never asked for the approval of conservative white bigots – I'm certainly not going to start now.' She is equally outspoken about Palestine: speaking at the GLAAD Media awards in April 2024, she called for an 'immediate ceasefire and permanent ceasefire', and today has no qualms about denouncing 'the genocide' under way. When I ask if she's ever been advised not to comment, or to use different phrasing, Rapp doesn't say she hasn't. 'It's interesting, people would often mask it as 'That verbiage may make people uncomfortable.' I would argue that people being slaughtered makes me uncomfortable and should in fact make you uncomfortable.' Rapp feels obliged to speak out not just because it's the right thing to do but, she says, because it's so much harder for non-white women. She admits she was shocked when she first moved to New York in 2019, to join Mean Girls on Broadway and discovered 'that people are still conservative bigots there'. Rapp starred in the show for about seven months before Covid brought it to a premature close. Now living with Bird in a 'seemingly white-liberal-ass neighbourhood' of Los Angeles, Rapp says there are 'extremists' a few doors down, with signs in the windows warning 'We're armed'. 'Especially with our current administration, it's just so in your face – the hate for people who could be considered 'other',' she says. 'There's just direct hate, and it's so loud.' When I ask Rapp where she got the confidence to speak her mind, she answers simply: 'I have phenomenal parents.' Her father, Charles, and mother, Denise, instilled in Rapp and her brother the importance of hard work and personal accountability. 'They were just always like: 'Be accountable to yourself, to your friends, to people you don't know,'' she says. What Rapp took away was that 'there's no shame in being wrong, necessarily'; what mattered was being able to 'look in the mirror' and hold your head up high. Though she is grateful for that foundation, it wasn't always easy: even when Rapp was very young, her parents didn't hold back in their feedback on her performances. Rapp recently claimed that Denise even gave her daughter an alliterative name, 'just in case' she wanted to become a pop star. Today her parents are among only a handful of people who she can count on to be brutally honest with her, along with Bird – and maybe 'two people' on her team.'I don't trust anyone,' she says, 'and I don't say that in a 'Oh, no, I feel lonely!' way – I know that there are so many people who are never going to be honest with me. I think everyone is lying to me, all the time.' It perhaps explains her own premium on public-facing authenticity. Even when she says she loves to lie, it seems it's only about the things that don't matter. I put it to Rapp that, where other pop stars might be blandly noncommittal, her own strategy for getting around difficult questions she doesn't want to answer is to deploy humour. 'Exactly,' she says, like I'm her pupil giving her a correct answer. Of course, a veneer of authenticity can also be a way of obfuscating what someone really thinks. Her single Leave Me Alone is a prime example: the line where Rapp crows 'I took my sex life with me, now the show ain't fuckin'!' went viral for seeming to allude to her departure from The Sex Lives of College Girls (there were rumours that cast members had questioned her sexuality). Online, the show's fans decried the line as tacky and disrespectful of the role that made her famous; Rapp's fans said she was only being 'iconic' again. Rapp only stirred the pot further in her interview with Ziwe, describing Sex Lives as being 'such a good experience' in a way that played equally as sarcastic or sincere. 'I wish I could go back,' she said, deadpan. Even whip-smart Ziwe seemed to fall for it, inquiring: 'Really?' 'Nope!' Rapp shot back. When I tell her about the online debate raging over her intentions, Rapp gives a Cheshire cat grin. 'It's like Beyoncé said: 'You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation.'' Having previously approached songwriting as an exercise in truth-telling, Rapp discovered with this album that she could embellish her experiences and even make things up without sacrificing emotional truth. She doesn't feel the need to respond to speculation about what her songs are about. I ask Rapp if she gave her former Sex Lives co-stars a heads-up about the 'show ain't fuckin'' line. 'I didn't write it,' she says instantly. I'm momentarily flummoxed. Rapp spies her chance and runs with it. 'I've not heard of that show, is it good?' she continues, cocking her head as though earnestly engaged. It takes me a beat too long to realise – she's messing with me, right? 'Yep.' Reneé Rapp's new album, Bite Me, is released on 1 August.
News.com.au
11-07-2025
- News.com.au
‘Violated': Sydney's dark, hidden night-life truth
Nightlife in Sydney feels like a ghost of what it once was; over-regulated, underwhelming, and the energy that once pulsed through the city after 1am has been replaced by silence and the frustrating reality that you probably can't find a train home. But the danger once linked to places like Kings Cross hasn't vanished. Real threats still linger, reminding us that letting our guard down in the name of a little fun can come at a cost. I'd arrived at a busy Newtown club in August 2024, briefly separated from my friends to order a gin and tonic at the bar, and my memory cuts off right there. Later, friends found me slumped on a stool, head down on a table, with a man standing too close for comfort. They carried me out to a mate's car, and I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache that felt like I'd downed 20 drinks. I was told the security guard who escorted us out clearly thought I was just another drunk. It's not surprising. These days, security might as well be venue HR – there to protect the establishment and its image, not the people inside it. I escaped the situation physically unharmed, and in some ways, I'm grateful I blacked out. I don't have to replay it in my dreams. But from that night on, I never went out in the city after dark without my partner, and crowded bars now leave me feeling claustrophobic and uneasy in a way they never used to. I was one of the lucky ones. For many others, the outcome is far worse. Sydney woman Taylor*, 28, has shared her harrowing story exclusively with 'There was this guy hanging around our group. I really didn't think anything of it, he was alone and just chatting to us. My friend handed me a drink and I literally had one sip,' Taylor recalled of her terrifying night out in Sydney in May 2024. 'Within minutes I lost feeling in my legs and fell to the ground. 'I told my friend to take me home. When we arrived I got out of the taxi and my legs and arms didn't work. I smacked the ground face first and couldn't get up. 'The next moment I knew I was in my house in the bathroom covered in blood. My chin had split and I spat my tooth out. I had post-traumatic concussions for weeks after. 'I think the guy hanging around our group slipped something in the drink when I was sitting at the bar. I wasn't drunk, I was with people I trusted. To be honest it ruined me for a long time.' Taylor said after her drink spiking ordeal, she struggled to go out, have a drink or trust others. 'The damage it did to my face made me feel really embarrassed. I felt violated,' she said. 'The consequences lasted a long time afterwards, it wasn't just that moment.' Taylor emphasised that it is never the fault of the person getting their drink spiked, saying 'you can do everything right and this still happens'. She added: 'I was dressed head-to-toe in warm weather gear, I was with my family and my closest friends and it still happened so fast I didn't see. 'All I can think about is that I was out with my younger stepsister at the time and I am so glad it was me and not her, I'd never forgive myself.' For anyone reading this and wondering, 'why didn't she report it?' I asked Taylor the same thing. Her response was heartbreaking, but explains exactly why many victims cannot report these crimes. 'By the time the sickness and concussion had worn off the drugs were out of my system. I didn't have any evidence to prove what had happened,' she said. 'My friend was an ex-police officer and she said there was little they could or would do. I was in so much pain, my jaw was out of place, I was violently ill and broken … I just didn't have the energy.' Taylor's experience is far from unique. Many women and men in Sydney have faced the same terrifying ordeal. journalist Claudia Poposki wrote in 2022 about a night out celebrating her friend's birthday that almost 'derailed her life'. 'I remember feeling terrified, unable to trace my steps and alarm bells ringing danger screaming in my head,' she wrote. 'I thought I was dying. 'Ordering off the QR code was the 'mistake' I'd made.' Is Sydney no longer safe? The NSW Bureau of Crime confirmed that there have been 209 spiking incidents across NSW in the 12 months to March 2025. Of these cases, 17 involved assault with a syringe as the weapon. Data shows a generally stable number of annual recorded incidents from April 2015 to March 2020, followed by a marked increase in April 2021 – March 2022 and April 2022 – March 2023. Sydney has consistently recorded the highest number of incidents, with recent spikes also emerging in Newcastle and the Inner West. The incidents occurred in a range of locations – including homes, outdoor areas, and vehicles – but licensed venues made up the majority of cases. Drink and needle spiking is not rare, but it is underreported, often due to the fact it is difficult to prove as most substances exit the system quickly - as Taylor said. Alcohol is the most common substance used to spike drinks. More and more victims are being left not just with physical marks, but with long-term trauma, shame, and unanswered questions. Sydney at night might not feel dangerous in the way it once did years ago, but that doesn't mean it's safe. Safer Sips, a Melbourne-based company that created alcohol detection strips to detect drink spiking drugs such as GHB and Ketamine, published an investigation into spiking in Australia earlier this year. 'Drink spiking is a crime that leaves its victims vulnerable, violated, and too often, unheard. '(It) isn't just an isolated act – it's a gateway to further harm, including sexual assault and theft,' the report reads. 'Despite countless personal stories and growing awareness, the true scope of drink spiking in Australia remains alarmingly underreported and poorly understood. 'It's time to demand change.' The report includes a petition calling on the Australian Government to conduct an investigation into this crime, demanding stronger legislation, venue accountability, government backed research and greater victim support and awareness. For now, everyday Aussies like Taylor, Claudia, and countless others carry the burden of staying alert. Tracking every sip, scanning every room, and watching each other. The city has changed. But that doesn't mean the risk has.
BBC News
10-07-2025
- Business
- BBC News
Mayor announces underground trains and trams plan for Manchester
A new underground system for trains and trams is being planned for Manchester city centre, the mayor has said. As he outlined the region's 10-year strategy, Greater Manchester Mayor Andy Burnham said it was "essential" to the city's future economic prosperity that a transport system was built said he envisaged two lines in the city - one running from North to South and the other East to West - with Manchester Piccadilly Station at the centre as the "Kings Cross of the north of England"."This isn't a pipe dream - we will not accept anything else," he said. He said planning needed to start now for an underground system "as we get towards the 2040s going towards the 2050s".The mayor said the development would see a new underground station in Manchester Piccadilly alongside the new Liverpool-Manchester railway line. He told BBC Radio Manchester: "I don't feel adventurous saying this - it is essential."This city is the fastest growing in the UK and my message to government is that you can't take this growth for granted.""We've got a bigger and bigger economy - every year more people are working here, more people are studying here and more people visiting here."The mayor said going underground was the only option as the land above was needed for development and attracting businesses."You would be creating a source of business rates for decades," he said. 'Heart of northern economy' Burnham said this could create the kind of regeneration at Manchester Piccadilly that has taken place around London's Kings Cross added: "Piccadilly should be the Kings Cross of the north of England - it could be the beating heart of the northern economy."Manchester politicians have previously toyed with an underground plan from Piccadilly to Victoria stations with a subterranean tunnel in the 1970s nicknamed "Picc-Vic" which was ultimately he outlined the new plan on Wednesday night, Burnham said: "I want TfGM [Transport for Greater Manchester] to start preparing the original, first concept for what an underground for Manchester might look like. I'm going to open the earliest conversation with the government on what the funding mechanism will look like."The BBC has contacted the Department for Transport for a comment. Other pledges made by Burnham included the introduction of half-price bus travel for 18-21 year olds from September and a free 24-hour bus travel pilot program for older and disabled people to begin in August.A new tram stop to service new homes in Victoria North, the extension of Metrolink to Stockport and commuter lines being brought into the Bee Network have also been included. Listen to the best of BBC Radio Manchester on Sounds and follow BBC Manchester on Facebook, X, and Instagram. You can also send story ideas via Whatsapp to 0808 100 2230.
