One of the most anticipated events on the university calendar, freshers’ week has a reputation for drunken revelry spilling out onto the streets.

KentOnline reporter James Pallant visited Canterbury city centre on Saturday night to find out just how much mischief students get up to...

‘Freshers week’ kicked off last Monday at universities in Canterbury, with hundreds of students getting their first taste of freedom since leaving home.

A common grumble among residents in the cathedral city is that undergraduates are a nuisance, with their noisy parties and alcohol-fuelled antics.

To be fair, as a Canterbury resident myself, I spend a lot of time in the city centre and I have never seen students behaving badly.

But as a local news reporter, I also spend a lot of time looking at the city council planning portal and community Facebook groups, where comments allege such mischief runs rife.

In previous years, so-called “carnage” events in the city have drawn criticism – but with Gen Zers drinking about 20% less alcohol than millennials did at their age, is university still such a boozy bonanza?

Hitting the high street on Saturday night, I was curious to see whether freshers’ week would live up to the hype.

From 11pm to around 2.30am I wandered the city with street marshals - a security and community support team that patrols Canterbury during the evenings within the academic year.

I am pleased to report that, as far as I could see, antisocial behaviour was minimal.

Students were out in some numbers - Club Chemistry on Station Road was packed, as, predictably, was the high street McDonald’s.

But the streams of vomit, street fighting, and general lairiness some residents would have you believe is commonplace were noticeably absent.

In fact, in comparison to how busy with shoppers the high street was earlier that day, the strip was pretty quiet.

David Turner, who’s been patrolling with the street marshals for four years, says students are mostly respectful and take care of themselves just fine, but occasionally situations come up where it’s helpful for him and his team to intervene.

“Most of the students are alright but at certain times, like this week - freshers’ week - when there’s a lot of youngsters out drinking, you do have incidents,” said David.

“Like last night we had a young lad who collapsed outside Superdrug. We got there and he was with two of his housemates and he was absolutely drunk - he could barely talk.

“We got him in the van, took care of him and took him home. It just gives you such a great feeling knowing that that young man got home safely.”

The street marshals are Right Guard security officers, who, with funding provided by the University of Kent and Canterbury Christ Church, patrol areas of Canterbury and Medway to safeguard students.

They receive training and certification from Kent Police and have the power to take addresses and issue tickets for traffic violations.

David told me that part of that training is how to de-escalate situations, communicate with people and build relationships in the community.

Also commonly heard among Canterbury folk is the complaint there aren’t enough police on the streets, or certainly not as many as there used to be “back in the day”.

Another thing I did not see while doing my round of the city-centre nightclubs, bars and student hotspots was a single police officer or police car.

I was walking down the high street with Caroline Turner, another of the street marshals.

Small groups of youngsters were sitting on benches, talking, vaping and giddily making their way to and from their evening activities.

Caroline says that her group serves a different role to the police and has a different relationship with the public.

“Some people are afraid of the police,” she explained.

“But lots of people get to know us and I think it’s nice for the students to have that assurance that we are here if they need help.”

The help they provide can range from giving people directions, to giving incapacitated people a ride home, to even talking people down from attempting suicide.

The group of four security officers, David Turner, Caroline Turner, Darren Cook and Liz Harris, told me most of what they deal with is people with mental health issues.

On Saturday night, their focus was on making sure students were staying safe while having a good time.

“We’re not looking to spoil anyone’s fun,” added Caroline.

“We want to make sure that people can have a good time and help them when they need help.”

As if on cue, a young woman who looked like she’d enjoyed a fair amount to drink approached the high-vis-clad security team, a distinct wobble in her step.

“Excuse me, do you know where the toilets are?” she asked.

Carol smiled and pointed her down the road.

“Thank you, you’re a f***ing life-saver!” she said, as she bumbled off in the indicated direction.