WHAT will happen to the building which housed the Odeon on Blossom Street, now that the cinema chain has finally killed it off?

The council "would look to work with any new owners to find an appropriate use or uses for the building, although it was too early to say at this stage what they might be," our story says tonight.

The Diary has a suggestion. Give it to the National Trust.

This is a Grade II listed building, a symbol of cinema's golden age and a great example of 1930s architecture.

But that's not why it is worth conserving.

The York Odeon is a peerless example of 21st century corporate indifference. What better way to teach future generations of big business's gleeful disregard for local people and ethical responsibility, than for the trust to open "The Odious Odeon Experience"?

The building should preserved exactly as it is. Visitors would be warned on their way in that it was not suitable for those of a nervous disposition.

Scarier than the York Dungeon, smellier than Jorvik and colder than a ghost walk in January, the Odious Odeon would offer the ultimate in thrills and chills.

Gasp at the threadbare carpets. Shiver at the broken-down boiler. And then the ultimate test of nerve: dare you take a peek into the toilets from hell?

The tour party would then be led through to the auditorium. After six bars of the Pearl & Dean theme, the projector would break down and "cinemagoers" would be asked to leave. Only then would they find they were stuck to their seats by an unknown glutinous substance.

The Odious Odeon could soon be packing them in. Which would be the only unrealistic thing about the whole attraction.

OF course the city fathers might come up with a more imaginative scheme, and turn the Odeon into 648 "luxury apartments".

HOW times have changed.

Labour councillor Ken King, a former Lord Mayor, recalled to the Diary how he helped set up York's Disabled Advisory Group in the mid 1980s. A friend of his had been struck down by a wasting condition which left her confined to a wheelchair.

She challenged him to do the rounds of York in a wheelchair to find out what it was like.

He couldn't get into the main Post Office. At a furniture shop further up the road (now closed) he asked if he could get up to the first floor to look at a bed. "They said they hadn't got a lift but they could carry me up," Ken says. "I declined."

Then his friend took him to a caf and filled him with cup after cup of tea to make sure he needed to use the loo. Naturally, when the time came, he couldn't get his wheelchair through the toilet door.

And what was the caf's response?

"The manager said I could use the washbasin if I wanted," says Ken. "I declined."

See? Progress. They'd never offer use of the washbasin in these health-and-safety-conscious days.

Updated: 08:54 Tuesday, April 04, 2006