Look out London - the Big Apple's biting back

Meanwhile, luggage also seems to reach the carousel quicker than at home. Outside, the buses and taxis line up and you're quickly on your way into New York. The contrast between the scenes at London's airports and Newark could not be greater.

On a week-long visit to Manhattan with my 15-year-old son, I was expecting to come away feeling smug. After all, I'd been told repeatedly these past few months and done a bit of telling myself, I must admit that London has overtaken New York as the world's leading city. We're global number one, the once mighty NYC has been knocked off its perch.

But that doesn't mean we can't learn lessons or that we should take our preeminence for granted. First impressions count and the funding of their anti-terrorist push, so that people are minimally inconvenienced, instantly struck home.

So too, did the lack of violent crime. We seem to be at a point with regard to gun and knife culture that New York found itself in 20 years ago. They have succeeded in combating the poison, whereas here, we're still seeking a cure.

Barring one horrific murder of a doctor's family and even that was in distant, rural Connecticut there was little horror filling the pages of the city newspapers or occupying the airwaves.

In London, in the same week, we had a doorman shot dead outside a nightclub, a trainee lawyer beaten to death in a City nightclub by a group of men including, allegedly, a serving police constable, and a 16-year-old chased and shot dead by masked gunmen on a Stockwell estate.

In London, I've got used to the incessant blare of sirens. In New York and I never thought I'd write this the streets are far quieter. They've done this, too, without cameras. On the subway, at major junctions and outside main buildings, there is little sign of CCTV. After a few days, I wondered why I felt strangely liberated walking along..

I realised it was because I didn't feel I was being watched everywhere I went.

What there is in abundance in Manhattan are police officers. Anywhere people gather, they are in evidence. They carry guns, of course, but theirs are pistols. In London, I've also become accustomed to the sight of policemen brandishing fearsome automatic carbines, looking as if they should be on patrol in downtown Basra rather than Kensington.

Possibly because of the police but also because of the prevalence of waste bins, there is no litter. The cleanliness goes beyond that, however. Visit a London public gardens and you will observe piles of cans, cartons and bottles left by picnickers. In Central Park, I saw not one telltale scintilla of white against the green of the lawns. What I did see, in addition to the bins, were attendants.

There's no doubt that in London we've caught up New York in terms of the food our restaurants offer. But not service.

At every meal, regardless of what sort of establishment you're in, the first thing they do is bring you a jug of tap water and glasses. Without asking.

They don't press you for drinks and certainly don't proffer bottled water.

When you leave and you're given the bill, the service box is always left blank. It's up to you what you pay and as a result, you suspect, the waiters don't take your tip for granted and work harder than their London counterparts.

Central New York is smaller than London and transport is easier. But there are more cabs available, especially at night; they use their rivers more so there are water taxis plying back and forth; the subway trains are more frequent and, crucially, are air-conditioned. The fares are cheaper, too. A $2 ticket takes you to the furthest reach of the network.

That was where we went, one evening, to watch the Mets play the Pirates at baseball at Shea Stadium in Queens.

The crowd was large and good-natured.

Inside the ground, spectators were allowed to take beer to their seats something unheard of at a Premiership match. Around us were men of all ages, backgrounds and colours. Women and children, also. In the entire three hours of the game and on the train, I did not hear one swear word or witness a single obscene gesture.

The organisers knew how to entertain.

Sure, some of it was corny from the standing for the national anthem (but everyone did it) to the bloke who sang the original Eye of the Tiger blasting it out one more time, and the "seventh inning shakedown" when we were all asked to stand and shake ourselves down in readiness for the finale. But it was also comforting, like eating a big slab of apple pie.

New York is a city of bars as is London. But boozing is not rammed down your throat as it is here. Windows are not adorned with posters promising "happy hour" and "two-for-one spirits".

The social pressure to consume and to get drunk is not so transparent. It's details like this that you notice.

Above all, there is a sense of people being there to help, of them having a genuine pride in themselves, in their work and in their town.

Give me London any day. We've more space. Our buildings might not be as big but they're prettier. Our arts and theatre are streets ahead. Our shops offer more choice (although the assistants lag behind New York when they come to knowing what it is they're selling).

But in other areas, we're lacking.

There is a collective drive and purpose about New York that doesn't exist in London. Times Square has been cleaned up to a degree that our West End, particularly Soho, has not. Their underground system is spotless, devoid of graffiti. If there's a problem, they find the money and they solve it. Of course, New York has social deprivation on a vast scale. Of course it has crime. But whereas once they were worse, now they are not.

London leads the planet and deservedly so. But getting there is one thing; staying is quite another. Ken, Boris and anyone else who believes they know best should take a long, hard look at New York City.