This cri de coeur appeared on the front page of the Sun, Britain’s top-selling newspaper, on 21 January 2008. The previous week had seen the conviction of the killers of 47-year-old Garry Newlove. Late on the night of 10 August 2007, Newlove had heard noises outside his home in Warrington, a Lancashire town previously best-remembered for being the unlikely target of two IRA bombs in 1993. He confronted a gang of drunken teenagers, who promptly punched and kicked him to death. The outraged lament on the Sun’s front page was in fact quoted from a letter to the paper from one Dr Stuart Newton, a former head teacher. And forming a melancholy border around his words were the faces of fifteen high-profile murder victims. The message was unmistakable, conveyed with the newspaper’s usual clarity: the country is going to the dogs; the streets are not safe for respectable folk to walk; our youth is out of control. ‘In parts of our country there is social breakdown. Society stops at the front door of our house and the streets have been lost and we’ve got to reclaim them’, agreed Conservative Party leader David Cameron. And the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, confessed that she felt uncomfortable walking in London after dark (her words, explained an official, ‘hadn’t come out as she had intended’ and, by way of proof, Ms Smith had recently gone so far as to purchase a kebab on the inner-city streets of Peckham). But where, you might wonder, is the news in all this? The reference to ‘feral youths’ is distinctively contemporary (rampaging teenagers being, as it were, one of the foul flavours of our day). But has there ever been a time when newspapers—and perhaps indeed the rest of us too—haven’t been decrying the ‘downward spiral of Britain’? The fact that one of the faces staring out from the Sun’s front page is that of Stephen Lawrence, stabbed to death in a racist attack in south London in April 1993—fifteen years ago—can be read as a discreet allusion to the timelessness of this nostalgia for a better, safer world.