From Golden Goose to Cooked Goose: How #Bristol's Council Binned the Creative Industry That Actually Made Money.
Or: How to turn a world-renowned film hub into an expensive car park in three easy steps.
Bristol, a city with a fabulous history of being a television and film production powerhouse, has been spectacularly “binned” by its own council—and I use that term with the precision of a forensic accountant examining a crime scene. The region’s largest studio complex, The Bottle Yard, once a glittering beacon of high-value television, fantastic acting talent, and—revolutionary concept here—actual jobs for actual local people, has been left in the wilderness to rot away like a forgotten prop from a cancelled soap opera.
The public outcry is deafening, though apparently not loud enough to penetrate the soundproof bubble our councillors seem to inhabit. The botched privatisation attempt has just cost Bristol taxpayers £430,000—that’s nearly half a million pounds pissed up the wall on a “failed attempt” that was doomed from the start.
As Bristol Live reader Antigov so succinctly put it, “Greed will eat itself”—which, coincidentally, would make an excellent title for a documentary about Bristol City Council’s decision-making process. The council’s “brave new plan” to privatise a wildly successful, money-making asset has collapsed more spectacularly than a dodgy film set, leaving many to wonder if our leaders have any idea what they’re doing. Spoiler alert: they don’t.
Opposition councillor Tim Rippington has been asking the awkward questions about this financial disaster, pointing out that “£430,000 would have made a world of difference to our local libraries, street cleaning teams, or local authority schools.” But apparently, peeing nearly half a million on a guaranteed-to-fail privatisation scheme was a higher priority than, you know, actual public services.
Meanwhile, readers like Carborundum are rightly blaming the “Greens’ pursuit of full privatisation”—because nothing says “environmental consciousness” quite like flogging off your most successful cultural asset to the highest bidder while burning through taxpayer money like it’s confetti at a wedding nobody wanted.
It’s a tragedy worthy of its own Netflix series: “How to Turn Gold into Absolute Bollocks: A Bristol Story.” The only problem is, after this debacle, there might not be anywhere left in Bristol to film it.
The Creative Empire We’re Apparently Done With (Because Success is So Last Century).
To understand the monumental scale of this cock-up, you have to appreciate just what a media behemoth Bristol actually was before our councillors decided to take a sledgehammer to it. The city’s film and TV success wasn’t some happy accident—it was the result of decades of strategic thinking, something that’s apparently become as extinct in City Hall as common sense.
Nature’s Capital (While It Lasted).
Bristol is widely recognised as the world’s capital for natural history filmmaking, a title it earned through actual achievement rather than committee meetings and PowerPoint presentations. This distinction exists entirely thanks to the BBC Natural History Unit (NHU), which has been based here since 1957—back when Bristol’s council actually understood the concept of nurturing successful industries instead of flogging them off like stolen goods at a car boot sale.
The NHU has produced some of the most iconic and critically acclaimed documentaries ever made: Planet Earth, The Blue Planet, Life on Earth. You know, the programmes that actually put Bristol on the global map for something other than traffic chaos and fiscal incompetence. Their presence created a local ecosystem of world-leading filmmakers and researchers, cementing Bristol as THE place to go for top-tier wildlife productions.
But who needs international recognition when you can have more bike lanes, eh?
The City of Clay (Soon to Be Mud).
Bristol is also the home of Aardman Animations, one of the most successful and beloved animation studios in the world. With their unique claymation style, Aardman brought global fame to the city through Wallace and Gromit and Chicken Run—characters who, ironically, show more intelligence and forward-thinking than our current civic leadership.
Their presence solidified Bristol’s reputation as a creative hotbed for animation talent, attracting a constant stream of new artists and innovation. Or at least it did, until our council decided that creative industries were apparently less important than whatever the hell they think they’re doing instead.
More Than Just Pretty Scenery (Though We’re Buggering That Up Too).
Beyond its world-renowned specialisms, Bristol was a highly sought-after location for a wide range of drama and film productions. Note the past tense—because that’s what happens when you systematically destroy your competitive advantages through sheer bloody-minded incompetence.
The city was a producer’s dream, offering incredibly diverse backdrops—from the historic harbourside (now mostly obscured by traffic cones) to the grand Georgian architecture of Clifton (soon to be surrounded by LTN barriers, no doubt). The Bottle Yard Studios provided large-scale, purpose-built sound stages that could accommodate major studio shoots, making it the largest film and TV studio in the region and an essential piece of the puzzle.
From gritty youth dramas like Skins to modern classics like Sherlock and The Outlaws, Bristol provided the perfect canvas. The city served as a versatile backdrop for everything from period dramas like Poldark to global sci-fi series like War of the Worlds. Past tense again—because apparently our council looked at this incredible success story and thought, “You know what this needs? Less success.”
The Financial Catastrophe That Makes It Even Worse.
But wait—it gets even more pathetic. The aborted sale of world-famous Bottle Yard Studios cost Bristol City Council taxpayers £430,000, according to recent revelations. That’s nearly half a million quid of OUR money—gone. Vanished. Burned through faster than cocaine at a Hollywood wrap party.
The authority wanted to privatise the South West’s biggest TV and film studios, which it owns, but the idea collapsed in July when a three-month period for negotiations with the preferred bidder to take it on expired. Three months of negotiations, armies of consultants, legal fees, due diligence—all to achieve absolutely sod all.
The studios that have been used by many of the globe’s biggest small- and big-screen entertainment industries, including the BBC, ITV, Amazon, Netflix and Paramount—you know, the tiny little companies that barely register in the entertainment world—were apparently not worth keeping under public control.
Labour Councillor Tim Rippington submitted a question asking how much City Hall had spent on the “failed attempt” to sell the studios, and the answer should make every Bristol taxpayer absolutely furious: “£430,000 would have made a world of difference to our local libraries, street cleaning teams, or local authority schools”, he pointed out.
But no—apparently hiring consultants to destroy something that was already working perfectly was the priority. It’s like paying someone £430,000 to set fire to your own house.
The Priorities That Paved the Way for Ruin (Literally, With Coloured Tarmac).
So why has this thriving creative industry been left to go to pot? Well, gather ‘round, people, because this is where the story gets really depressing—and expensive.
The public’s frustration has reached fever pitch, with many pointing to a style of governance that prioritises pet ideological projects over, you know, actual prosperity. The common refrain you hear on the streets—when you can actually move on the streets—is that this is an administration that couldn’t run a bath, unless it came with a detailed sustainability impact assessment, a public consultation period, and a rainbow-painted plug.
For many, the most visible signs of this “leadership” are the city’s new traffic systems, a masterpiece of bureaucratic self-harm that would be hilarious if it weren’t so tragic. Bristol’s roads are now a patchwork of prettily coloured surfaces, new lanes that go nowhere, and intricate junction designs that have elevated congestion to a genuine art form.
The satirical view—though it’s barely satire at this point—is that the administration’s traffic management system is so brilliantly advanced, it actively prevents traffic from moving. It’s a solution so revolutionary that other cities haven’t dared to try it, probably because they still possess functioning brain cells.
And then there are the Low Traffic Neighbourhoods (LTNs), implemented with the religious zeal of medieval crusaders, despite being a source of massive local backlash and having been abandoned by other towns and cities across the country. But why let evidence get in the way of ideology? That would be terribly old-fashioned.
The critique isn’t that this administration lacks vision—oh no, they’ve got vision coming out of their backsides. The problem is that their vision is so laser-focused on these specific, ideological vanity projects that it completely neglects the core function of running a major city. You know, boring stuff like nurturing the industries that actually generate wealth, employment, and international recognition.
The botched sale of The Bottle Yard Studios isn’t an isolated incident—it’s a symptom of a much larger disease: leadership that has lost touch with what actually makes a city prosperous. Instead of supporting the golden goose that was laying actual golden eggs, they’ve decided to cook it and serve it up to their ideological appetites.
The American Reality Check That Makes This Even More Pathetic.
Here’s the most damning question of all: Would this happen in America? Would a smaller city that thrived on film and TV production—a major feeder into the wider LA ecosystem—so stupidly abandon its golden goose?
Absolutely bloody not.
In America, a city with Bristol’s film credentials would be treated like the economic goldmine it actually is. Local politicians would be fighting each other to take credit for supporting it, not looking for ways to flog it off to the highest bidder.
What would actually happen in an American city:
Aggressive tax incentives to keep productions local
Red carpet treatment for studio executives (literally and figuratively)
Fast-tracked permits for new productions
Massive marketing campaigns promoting the city as the next Atlanta
Political careers built on “I brought Hollywood jobs to our town”
Why? Because American politicians understand a concept that apparently eludes Bristol Council: Industries that bring in outside money = votes and re-election
The Brutal Cultural Comparison.
An American small city with a film industry:
“We’re the next Georgia! How do we get MORE productions?”
Dedicated economic development offices with film liaisons
Politicians posing with celebrities at every opportunity
Tax breaks so generous they’re almost embarrassing
Bristol with a world-leading film industry:
“Let’s sell it and see what happens! More bike lanes?”
No coherent support structure
Politicians who seem genuinely embarrassed by success
Ideological purity trumps economic reality every single time
The mindset difference is staggering:
Americans see success and think: “How do we replicate and expand this?” Bristol Council sees success and thinks, “How does this align with our sustainable transport vision?”
Real American Examples That Make Bristol Look Even More Pathetic.
Georgia turned itself into a film powerhouse through sheer bloody-minded determination and aggressive incentives. Louisiana did the same. New Mexico markets itself as the “Hollywood of the Desert.” Even Pittsburgh—PITTSBURGH!—reinvented itself as a major film location.
These places fight for productions. They roll out red carpets, offer police escorts, provide free location scouting, bend over backwards to accommodate film crews, and treat every visiting producer like visiting royalty.
Meanwhile, in Bristol, “Actually, we think this internationally successful industry is a bit inconvenient for our traffic management schemes. Have you considered filming somewhere with better cycle infrastructure?”
The Council Meeting From Hell.
Picture this comparison:
American Mayor: “Our film industry brings in $500 million annually and employs 10,000 people. Emergency meeting—how do we double these numbers by next year?”
Bristol Council: “Our film industry brings in millions and employs hundreds of local people. Emergency meeting—how do we privatise it and probably f*ck it up completely while maintaining our commitment to sustainable urban planning?”
It’s the difference between pragmatic capitalism and ideological bureaucracy gone mental. Americans may have their faults, but they don’t usually sell off their most successful industries because they don’t fit the council’s vision for a car-free utopia.
The Tragic Irony of Lost Opportunity.
The most soul-crushing part? Bristol had everything American cities spend millions trying to create from scratch:
International recognition ✓
Established infrastructure ✓
Skilled workforce ✓
Global industry connections ✓
Decades of proven success ✓
And our council looked at this hand of aces and decided to fold because it didn’t align with their ideology.
An American politician who lost a major film industry would be voted out immediately and probably run out of town on a rail. In Bristol, they’ll probably get re-elected on a platform of “sustainable urban planning” and “reducing inequality through cycle infrastructure.”
That’s the difference between a culture that rewards results and one that rewards good intentions wrapped in environmental buzzwords.
The Cinematic Irony of It All.
In the end, it all circles back to the familiar, soul-crushing reality of Bristol City Council governance. As Bristol Live reader Bs3bob perfectly encapsulates: “BCC only ever does studies, though. Consultants make a fortune, yet very little ever gets done.”
It’s the perfect summary of modern municipal incompetence: spend a fortune on consultants to tell you how to destroy what’s already working, then act surprised when it all goes tits up.
We’re watching a truly cinematic performance here—a tragicomedy about a city that was thriving despite its leadership, and a world-class creative industry that’s been sacrificed on the altar of ideological purity. The irony is so thick you could cut it with a film camera: Bristol’s council has managed to create the most compelling case study in municipal incompetence, and they haven’t even realised they’re the villains in their own story.
But hey, at least we’ll have plenty of coloured bike lanes to remember our former glory by. I’m sure that’ll comfort the hundreds of creative professionals looking for work in Atlanta, New Mexico, or literally anywhere that understands the value of success.
Roll credits. 🎬
Sources: Bristol Post, Deadline, Bristol World
John Langley is a Bristol-based author and the city’s most reluctant political commentator. Allegedly.
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