This is a place where you can buy alcohol first thing in the morning.
A place where no fewer than 200 young revellers were recently marched out of one house by police officers.
A place described by an exasperated resident as being “just like Ibiza in high season”.
A place where you can gauge the imminent disorder by listening to the weather forecast.
And a place which, despite the lockdown, has remained “party central” right through the normally quiet summer months.
Welcome to the ironically named ‘Holyland’ area of Belfast, where the very first thing I saw during a visit there yesterday morning was two male students sitting on a wall outside a house necking bottles of Corona Extra.
They clearly needed an immediate cure — which is something the long-suffering residents of this south Belfast enclave have, for decades now, been crying out for.
But if they thought that other ‘corona’ would bring some much-needed respite, they were seriously wrong.
And now the ‘permanent’ folk of the city’s student heartland are bracing themselves for another long, noisy winter — and it is not even Fresher’s Week yet.
These partygoers are the responsible professionals of Northern Ireland’s future but at this age, they tend to live, drink and party like there is no tomorrow.
And today brings yet another bout of dread for Holyland residents Brid Ruddy and Michael Carter.
Only last night an image, currently circulating on social media, showed a group of up to 12 youngsters pressed together like sardines and standing precariously on a first floor ledge in a Holyland street. But it’s nothing new.
“Several students have fallen from heights like that in previous years,” said Ms Ruddy.
“One had very serious injuries and was in hospital for quite some time, but it doesn’t stop them.
“I worry that someone might die by falling and hitting their head on a hard concrete surface; I’m surprised that someone hasn’t already.”
Yesterday I saw a queue outside the off-licence and youths drinking in the street. I could hear loud shouting coming from a property a few streets away — and it was not even midday.
There were empty pint glasses and beer bottles on the walls outside houses — remnants of the previous night’s festivities, reminiscent of pub-goers having recently left tables that had not yet been cleared.
Other litter — broken vodka and wine bottles, takeaway food and drink cartons, empty cigarette packets — lay strewn in front ‘gardens’ of rented accommodation, while special bin vans laid on by Belfast City Council collected bagged rubbish from the side of streets.
Coronavirus is clearly not the only virus threatening this place.
Mr Carter said he’d had to leave his home on Fitzroy Avenue on Sunday night because of an all-night party.
“I went to stay with someone around midnight because it was so loud,” he told me.
“We normally get nine weeks’ respite during the summer, but this year it’s been like the Ibiza strip in high season.
“There’s a video circulating on social media with a policeman saying he cleared a three-storey house with 200 people in it, during the summer lockdown.”
He added: “People don’t hide the fact that they’re coming here to party.”
A highly visible police car was patrolling the area around Agincourt Avenue yesterday, while another was parked up at Palestine Street.
There, a member of the so-called Engagement Team from Queen’s University was having a length chat with some students.
He did not want to be quoted, but said his job is to respond when he is contacted by the police, council or residents.
I am later told that an all-day party that was due to start in Palestine Street was broken up.
Walking around the area with South Belfast MLA Paula Bradshaw, we see a bunch of guys walking along the street with a crate of Budweiser and some bottles of white wine.
Elsewhere, groups of up to 13 young people were congregating. There was no social distancing.
By 12.20pm the sun had come out, the loud music had started and the streets were starting to fill up with students.
The Alliance politician said: “This is just the start of it. Freshers’ Week is next week.”
After spending a couple of hours in the Holyland, it is clear that an influx of new students in the near future will mean heightened anarchy.
“Residents don’t go to the local shop, the cafe or the off-licence because nobody is wearing masks and nobody is keeping a social distance; the whole area is a Covid hotspot,” said Ms Ruddy.
“They’ve been here all summer. This is the first time we’ve had parties all summer. It’s Partyland here.
“With Covid and all the pubs closed, they’ve been coming here for house parties.
“And when they kept the parks open 24 hours a day during lockdown it was a nightmare. Everybody was drunk, peeing and pooing everywhere.
“There’s a drinking culture and lack of enforcement but our main concern these days is about Covid. It’s just so dangerous.”
Every day now, for Ms Ruddy, an awful inevitability seems just around the corner.
“We’ve had parties here since the end of April,” she said.
“They start at around 11pm and run to around 4am, but they can last for two days.”
Perhaps it is no coincidence that 11pm is the time the off licence finally pulls down its shutters after another busy 14 hours of trading.