For many people working through the Christmas season, productivity tends to drift somewhere between a mince pie and a mid-afternoon lull. The pace slows and inboxes quieten. But then, on the other side of the fence, there is hospitality. For those in the sector, December often means longer hours, heavier workloads and sacrificing much of their own holidays so the rest of us can enjoy ours – all while tending to customers in search of that elusive “perfect” Christmas experience. I take my Christmas hat off to everyone working in hospitality, in whatever capacity, and hope they manage to find moments of cheer amongst the chaos.

During December, with the lights twinkling and carols drifting through the air, licensing laws are unlikely to be at the forefront of anyone’s thoughts. Yet they quietly govern the UK’s festive revelry – shaping how, when and where the celebrations unfold. In the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge’s own awakening in Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, let us take a short wander through the past, present and future of the licensing regime in England and Wales. So, settle in and let me take you on a journey.

Before the reforms and rationalisations of the modern age, licensing in Britain was a patchwork quilt of ancient statutes and local custom. Public houses were overseen by magistrates who preferred a firm hand – concerned, much like Dickens, about the social consequences of overindulgence in the crowded streets of Victorian London.

The old laws regulated hours with Puritan restraint. Taverns closed early, Sundays were tightly controlled and securing a licence often depended as much on local goodwill as on legal process. Fixed hours remained under the legislation that preceded the current regime, and they remained for 41 Christmases! Under the 1964 Licensing Act, pubs even had to close in the afternoon to provide a break between lunchtime and evening drinking and, astonishingly, remained in force until 1988.

It was, to put it mildly, a very different hospitality landscape from the one we know today. Virtually every licensing application had to be approved in front of magistrates, including extending hours, changes of licensee and approval of new plans – no matter whether anyone objected or not.

Today’s statutory framework is a more unified and transparent spirit, though one still burdened with heavy administrative chains. Licences are now granted by local councils, who can play the role of either Scrooge or Fezziwig, depending on the day and the application in front of them.

When the 2003 Act arrived, it was welcomed with enthusiasm. For the first time, licensees could apply for the hours they genuinely wished to operate, with talk of the new era even bringing “the potential for 24 hours opening”.

If Jacob Marley had been a licensing solicitor rather than a troubled spirit, he might have recited the four licensing objectives on his ghostly visit, urging Scrooge to balance profit with responsibility. The generous freedoms promised to hospitality were soon tempered by the need to protect communities from harm.

There is, in fairness, much to celebrate within the present legislation. It has achieved several of its aims, including simplifying the system by allowing a single premises licence to authorise a wide range of activities, and replaced the old patchwork of separate licences for different purposes. It has also reduced the overall time and cost of obtaining permissions.

Over the 20 years since the Act was introduced, I have seen a remarkable shift in approach. The original government vision has gradually faded, replaced by a far more cautious landscape shaped by local councils and responsible authorities, particularly the police. Licences today often arrive strangled with conditions, and securing one can feel increasingly difficult.

Many local authorities now treat new applications almost entirely as an exercise in identifying potential problems for the licensing objectives, rather than considering any positive contribution a business might bring to the community. It is, I suppose, why the services of a good licensing lawyer remain in steady demand.

For me, the most striking difference between past and present lies in how decisions are made. Previously, when decisions were made in the magistrates’ court, matters were heard by trained adjudicators, evidence was given on oath and it could be properly tested. The process had structure, clarity and a clear sense of fairness.

Local authority hearings can feel very different. I have seen an extensive Christmas list of curious practices, but one example stays with me. I was defending a review application and was informed that I had five minutes to speak. A stopwatch was produced. When I asked for extra time, given the seriousness of the proceedings and the potential consequences for my client, I was briskly told that I had already used two minutes of my allowance and that five minutes was the absolute limit. An expensive appeal in the magistrates’ court and a costs order later against the council did nothing to deter them from continuing with such a ludicrous approach.

Like the dark, silent phantom who reveals the consequences of unheeded lessons, the future of licensing law carries both promise and peril. The government has acknowledged that the Licensing Act needs modernising and, on the face of it, appears intent on tilting the balance back in favour of the hospitality sector – though some may say actions speak louder than words.

The Labour government that introduced the Licensing Act 2003 promised to cut red tape and promote business growth, giving responsible operators greater flexibility. The Labour government of today, on the other hand, assured voters in their manifesto that taxes would not rise.

Let us stay positive, it is nearly Christmas after all. In its recently published National Licensing Policy Framework, the government recognised that hospitality premises “make a significant contribution to local economies and communities, helping to create places where people want to live, work, visit and invest.” Licensing, it stated, must “support broader ambitions: business investment and growth, high street revival, businesses supporting rural communities, festivals and events, local jobs and community cohesion”.

The framework, which applies only to the on-trade, sets out the intention to promote investment, extend customer choice, regenerate local areas and provide better regulation by removing unnecessary bureaucracy. Its purpose is clear; to support the original intent of the Act.

The section 182 guidance has been very recently revised to include an obligation for councils to consider the need to “promote growth and economic benefits.” The future, therefore, need not be bleak. With careful reform, perhaps guided by the kind of compassion seen at the Cratchit family Christmas table, licensing law could foster community joy while keeping harms in check.

And so, as Tiny Tim might say: “God bless us, and all who are responsibly licensed, everyone!” Merry Christmas from the team at John Gaunt and Partners