Vomit, sirens and paramedics in clubs: What I saw on a Christmas night out in Cork City

Cork city glistens in the winter evening with fairy lights, outdoor markets and illuminated trees inspiring a sense of genuine and tangible good cheer.

Then - when the sun goes down - and the goodtime locals put on their party face, scrub up and hit the town.

It's that time of year. Everyone's up for it.

For most people, that means a night of fun, letting their hair down and getting the last bus, or a late taxi, home.

Then there is that considerable minority - the vocal, the messy and the overly boisterous - who don't know when to quit.

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As a result gardaí in the city, as well as other emergency services and A&Es are on high alert. It isn't anything they haven't seen before but that doesn't make it any easier to cope with.

Christmas is fun for most of us but for the gardaí and medical professionals in particular it is a stressful time when their resources and their patience are stretched to the limit.

So last Saturday, as the shops lowered their shutters and pubs, clubs and restaurants opened their doors to the serious end of Christmas revelry, Superintendent Barry McPolin was braced for the policing challenge ahead.

"For 52 weeks of the year there's something going on in Cork city centre every weekend, so we're well used to dealing with big numbers in the city at night-time," he says. "We'll have nearly 20,000 people in the city's pubs and nightclubs on these busy nights - the overwhelming majority are well-behaved but of course there will be some with criminal intent and others, who may never have ended up in trouble before, get into difficulty at this time of year because of an excessive intake of alcohol.

"Of course on busy nights such as New Year's Eve we'll supplement our existing garda force with more personnel because of the volume of people in the city."

Meanwhile, the taxi drivers on Leeside are gearing up for their busiest time of the year. Der Calnan, owner of Satellite Taxis, explains that drunk passengers pose less risk than others. "We don't really have trouble with people who have been drinking - drugs are by far a bigger threat to taxi drivers in the city," he says. "Just last week one of our drivers had a fella pull a knife on him at midnight and even as he drove away, the guy was still stabbing at the car. Eventually the person was arrested but understandably our driver was traumatised by the whole thing."

I took to the streets of Cork City to find out if we really do party to excess in the run up to Christmas.

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21:00

One bouncer outside a popular city centre nightclub tells me Cork has been buzzing since 5pm with Christmas parties taking place across town. A walk down Washington Street, Grand Parade and Patrick's Street confirms as much. The main hang-outs are jointed, the atmosphere festive. It's a dry night, apparently that's a major factor in attracting people into the city, according to the gardaí. Shakin' Stevens can be heard wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and the streets of the southern capital sparkle.

Of course more revellers will pour into the city centre soon, the taxis are zipping by at pace. I spot a few young men and women meandering from side to side as they make their way down the street a little worse for wear - but they're good-humoured and bailing out after an early start.

22:00

Outside the popular Reardens bar on Washington Street and the Savoy Nightclub on Patrick's Street the crowds build and the bouncers are busy checking IDs.

"We have a strict policy of turning away anyone we think has had one too many, tonight that seems to be at least one in five people," explains one doorman at another nightclub. By now the taxis are pulling up thick and fast with glamorous looking twenty-somethings emerging from back seats in the mood to have fun. They sparkle in their Christmas best and many have already broken into the 'sherry' at home by the looks of things.

The Street Pastors (See panel, page 4), a group of volunteers, begin work at 10.30pm after a prayer - I join them as they pick up bottles, brush broken glass off the street and chat to doormen. The consensus is that numbers in the city are huge but it's relatively trouble-free. . . so far. "We can gauge early on what the vibe in the city is generally," explains Street Pastor Alex Gason, adding: "Tonight I think it's a good one. People are out to enjoy themselves and not get into any trouble. But things can change quickly so obviously we have to be on our guard.

"The biggest problems come at the end of the night when someone is left behind and in a bad condition. They can be passed out in a doorway. We try to get them to ring their last dialled number so we can get their friends to come and help them. We only help people if they want to be helped but since they realise we have no hidden agendas, they generally accept our assistance."

23:00

As if with the click of a switch, things turn a little 'messy' on the streets. "They told me to have a coffee and come back in 10 minutes," explains one angry gent who's been turned away from a nightclub.

Another rests at a bus shelter, his head droops and in a second he falls to the floor heavily. He's helped up by a passing stranger and staggers away into the cold night. Outside one bar a middle-aged woman is getting sick. Inside, the pubs are rocking now and a wave of Christmas jumper wearing men sing their way down Washington Street.

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The famished head for their take-aways before the night-time rush, some dozing off as they dine in. As a fire-brigade passes, one group of young men consider jumping on the back of the vehicle but they're too slow and it speeds down the street.

00:00

The trickle hailing taxis home grows. Suddenly people can't wait to get home. Many have been partying for eight hours straight and they're ready for their bed. Some couples kiss, others bicker down alleyways. For one young woman, the day's festivities have become worryingly excessive. She's taken from a busy nightclub in a collapsible chair by a paramedic and brought to hospital by ambulance. The city's Mercy University Hospital Accident and Emergency department treated around 70 patients on Saturday, and a similar number on Sunday.

"What we're definitely seeing though is that there are young women out there now who feel they can drink any man under the table and sometimes they don't know when to stop with obvious consequences," says Dr Chris Luke of the Mercy's A&E unit. I can sense the city getting more inebriated by the hour and as I walk from street to street, I see more cases of people, both young and not so young, feeling the ill-effects of excessive alcohol intake.

"When it's like this there's bedlam in our A&E department; we're very quickly overwhelmed," explains Dr Luke. "We've very few beds and very few doctors, the tipping point is inevitable. The situation has never been as dire as it is right now. On a night like Saturday we'll get up to a dozen cases of people being injured in fights or falls linked to drink. The 12 pubs drinking challenge certainly doesn't help things, that's for sure. Also people are mixing drink with other highs like cannabis, head shop pick-me-ups and in some cases cocaine. They end up here after consuming the most lethal of cocktails."

Given the huge challenges placed on hospitals on these specific nights, Dr Luke urged people to avoid emergency departments if at all possible.

01:00

"I won't tell you again son, don't raise your hands" - a doorman is worried that a young man he's just ejected might turn aggressive. Tension fills the air. Within seconds a blue unmarked garda car pulls up outside the pub and two clothed gardaí jump out.

Another minute and this situation could have turned nasty - 75pc of the city centre is covered by CCTV and someone monitoring the cameras back at base on Anglesea Street obviously spotted the furore. The boys in blue defuse the situation calmly.

"We use robust policing based on an inner-city model we took from the UK and reshaped it to suit our specific needs in Cork," explains Supt McPolin. It's a system that's working.

Across town thousands are pouring on to the streets from late bars. I catch a fast-food restaurant employee who's popped out for a cigarette.

"I love mental nights like this," he tells me excitedly, adding: "Usually people do one weekend shift and say 'screw this for a game of soldiers, I'm out of here'. But I love the buzz and the intensity. The night flies and sometimes there might be an odd fight which can be good craic to watch."

A door to a busy nightclub opens and the familiar refrain of Shane McGowan and Kirsty MacColl pour out as one.

02:00

By 2.30am the city's nightclubs are emptying - thousands flood the streets simultaneously. The garda presence becomes more visible, some on bicycles. The banter is flying and the gardaí are good-humoured.

I hook up with the Street Pastors again, they hand out flip-flops to women who've decided to carry their high heels and take their chances with the broken glass that dots the streets. They pass out lollypops to rickshaw drivers who're delighted with the sugar rush.

A young man, who looks a little worse for wear, is crouched over on a windowsill. The Street Pastor team gives him a bottle of water, but once he finds out that it's free he's confused: "Ah lads, ye're wrecking my head, I don't get it. Don't waste this on me."

A couple whizz by on a rickshaw singing 'Last Christmas' badly but there's joy in their out-of-tune notes. With every minute the queue to Hillbilly's Fried Chicken take-away grows longer. Friends, who haven't seen each other for months embrace, some not so steady on their feet.

The temperature dances on either side of freezing while a gang of girls, who've clearly had a boozy night, dance on either side of the white line in the middle of the road bare-footed. They are wearing very little but show no signs of feeling the cold.

"Sometimes we give them turkey blankets to keep them warm if they're not feeling well. In weather like this, the exposure to such cold temperatures can become a serious problem," explains one of the Street Pastors.

03:00

Home-time for many. . . but not all. "I waited all year for Christmas to come around so I could get back from Oz so there's no way in the world I'm going home now," says one recently returned emigrant as he searches for an establishment that's still open.

The fresh air brings clarity to some revellers; but confusion and light-headedness to others. Some stagger on to the road. Cautious taxi-drivers half-predicting their involuntary side movements brake in time - regular motorists passing through the city beep their horns and shake their fists. For a period there doesn't appear to be enough taxis in the city centre but some companies such as Satellite Taxis have collection points just outside the main drag.

"We usually take home the people we take into the city and don't operate on the ranks in the city centre as such. We have collection points just outside the main centre and if someone can walk to them they're generally in a good enough state," explains Der Calnan. One group of young women in pink waves down a car and convince the male driver to bring them home. It appears as though they don't even know the man.

Meanwhile our photographer gets more attention with every passing half hour, "take our picture, take our picture," they roar down Washington Street.

It's been a hectic night, but the vast majority were well-behaved and the emergency services on the ball. Was there excess? Yes, at every turn and I witnessed more women who were unsteady of their feet than men. In terms of the emergency services, I was especially impressed by how quickly and sensibly the gardaí dealt with any buds of trouble.

A rather merry woman dressed from head to toe in silver produces some mistletoe and asks if I'd like a little Christmas peck! She's also wearing a flashing red nose and antlers - I politely decline, turn on my heel and head for home!