The images capture a woman in a hauntingly familiar pose. On one of Manchester’s grandest streets, outside a department store, she is bent as if she’s trying to pick something up.
Almost touching her toes, she remains motionless for minutes. Before long, she collapses to the ground, and bystanders are calling police for help.
The disturbing scene is eerily reminiscent of another time. The time when the Manchester Evening News first reported on a scourge that was leaving vulnerable people frozen in ‘zombie-like’ states across the city centre.
The sight of people wasted on synthetic cannabinoids would become so familiar, seven years ago, that national headlines would go on to dub the city ‘Spicechester’, home of the ‘living dead’.
I’m bracing myself for a deadly new wave of anti-drug moral panic.
Almost as if the idea of treating drug abuse as a criminal issue rather than a health issue is fundamentally flawed.