I had a go at the World Town Crier Tournament in Chester and it was terrifying

Holding a heavy bronze bell in my hand and wearing a fancy feathered hat, I prepare to test my lungs to capacity, by yelling across Chester’s town square. No, I am not inebriated. I am in esteemed company, as 25 of the planet’s best town criers have gathered this week for the 2026 World Town Crier Tournament, which runs until Saturday. And I’ve been allowed to have a go! Dong… dong… dong… my bell tolls, as I ring it three times, following tradition. Deafeningly loud, the dongs reverberate around the square in front of Chester Town Hall. "Oyez, oyez, oyez!" I bellow. Pronounced "oh yay”, it means "hear ye" or "listen". I pause for applause. “Not bad,” says David Mitchell from next to the stage. “Although, I’m not sure you should give up the day job.” Chester's town criers date back to 1554. And David has held the prestigious office for 30 years - also organising the tournament, which is in its fifth run. He explains how town crier, historically, was an official messenger who made public announcements in a community by reading them out loud. If a monarch died, taxes were being raised or the Saturday food market was open at 7am, the town crier would deliver the news - like a human newspaper. David says: “They actually date back to medieval times. In fact, two criers - or bellmen - even appear in the Bayeux Tapestry, which depicts the invasion of England by William of Normandy and the Battle of Hastings in 1066.” Today, the town criers - who include Chris Wyman, the last world title winner from Canada, who’s been practicing every day - are dressed to impress in 18th century-style ornate dress coats, breeches, rosette-adorned boots and a tricorne hat. David, who can say “welcome to Chester” in more than 10 languages, looks as sharp as a pin. To my delight, he hands me a bright red dress coat to wear. “You’ll look the part in this,” he says. Wearing full regalia, I feel the part, too. Maybe I should be entering the competition! “Are you a town crier?” asks a passerby, as I follow the criers’ procession through Chester’s streets. I could get used to this! But what does a town crier actually do in 2026? David says: “As Britain’s town-crying capital, Chester is the only place in the country where you can still hear this historic tradition on a regular basis. Proclamations have been delivered at High Cross since medieval times, and you can catch the town crier in action there from June through August, every Tuesday to Saturday at midday - or 11am on race days.” Every day is different and David is paid for an hour a day to deliver his proclamations. He says: “In the summer months it’s five days a week, welcoming the tourists. In the winter I do a lot of after-dinner speaking. “I proclaim a welcome to the city every day at midday, and then I will announce some news, like ‘his majesty King George III is still mad, and if he doesn't recover his wits soon he’ll be sent to our colonies in America where his madness will go unnoticed.’” The event, he says, aims to put town crying on the map. It’s certainly drawn competitors from around the globe. The Tournament, which began on Tuesday and runs until the winner is announced on Saturday, has been held in Chester four times since the turn of the century. Competitors include men and women from England, the Channel Islands, Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands, Australia, Canada and the USA. Judy Campbell, who is “old enough to know better, young enough to do it again”, flew 10,000 miles from New South Wales, Australia, to compete. She’s the current Australian champion. A celebrant and author, she says: “I’ve been a town crier for 34 years. There was a competition for a town crier in my home town and I won. As luck would have it, you can hear my voice from far and wide without amplification. “I love the ambassadorialship of town crying. The friendships I make from all around the world, even with language barriers - we have the most amazing thing in common. Although, don’t tell anyone, but I have tried to knobble them all this morning, so I take the crown.” Also fighting to win is 25-year-old Canadian, Summer Gallant, the youngest competitor. She says: “I’ve been a town crier since April - I’m the new kid on the block. There was a poster on Facebook for town crier auditions and I went for it. I’ve done theatre since I was a child and it seemed like fun. “It’s my first time in Chester and I’m having a blast. What’s not to love about town crying? You get to be loud, and people don't question you for it. There’s lots of pageantry involved. And there’s a great community. Everybody is so welcoming and kind.” Feeling nervous, as a first timer, she continues: “I’m terrified but very excited. Hopefully it’ll be the first of many competitions!” Adrian J Basford, 56, a healthcare trainer and therapist and the town crier of Rugely and the Staffordshire regiment, had fewer miles to travel, but has just as much grit. He says: “I’ve been doing this for three years now and I came here to prove my worth. “I actually approached my town council and said I wanted to be a town crier. Before me, there hadn’t been one for over 100 years. For me, it’s the uniform that drew me to town crying. I never lost that childhood love of dressing up. Town crier-ship gives that to me.” As the clock ticks closer to the start of the Tournament, a large crowd gathers. It's time for me to have another go - this time in front of an audience. I grip my bell, suddenly nervous. Although I’m sure my children would disagree, I’m not much of a shouter, even less so in public. Frozen to the spot, I feel a gentle nudge on the shoulder from Alan Giles, town crier from Fowey, Cornwall. “You’ve got this,” says Alan, 42. “But you need to speak slowly and deliberately.” He nods encouragingly, and I make my way to the front. A hundred eyes lock onto me. I feel faint. My palms are sweaty. I look at Alan, Adrian, Summer and the others. They smile. I smile back. And suddenly I feel part of the gang. I raise my bell. Dong… Dong… Dong… “Oyez, oyez, oyez!" And the crowd listen to me proclaim.