I hadn’t realised I was in the middle of Freshers Week.
For a start, Freshers Week had apparently been “cancelled” for some woke transgression or other.
But then, who believes a word that Sky News (or the BBC) says. Best get all your news off BRAPA, I reckon.
Matt and his flatmates had just had their move to Ancoats put on hold due to some essential work that hadn’t even been tendered yet, probably the removal of mummified kebabs from the loft or something.
So they were making Monday a Proper Night of it, with Font the next target.
The queue down Great Wakefield Street to Font, or Sub Control, or possibly a secret “comfort stop” behind Oxford Street Station, looked scary.
Presumably the students just installed in the new “Jenga” block that replaced Sound Control (sob)
hadn’t got the memo cancelling all nightlife in the city.
We weren’t joining queues. That’s how you catch Covid.
Luckily, under the arches, there is a light that never goes out.
“Oh no, not the Salisbury“, said someone in our household group. Probably a girl. The Salisbury has the same reputation in Manchester student-land as the King Street Run in Cambridge or McCann’s Ale House in Newport.
But they had space, they had tat, they had Theakston Old Peculier on the bar, and I knew I’d get some banter for my blog 3 pints in.
We discussed the legacy of The Stone Roses and their conspiracy theorist of a lead singer.
“Ian Brown has a smackable face, dunnie ?“
We discussed the best era for music (it’s 2020).
“Choruses are out at the moment”
We discussed the role of Jamie Oliver in banning turkey twizzlers (“****”).
Just as well the bants was good, as the beer may have tested the patience of even Mark Crilley. BRAPA wasn’t won over by the Salisbury in 2016, but then he’d just met me so was probably starstruck.
I’m cutting some slack for a pub with the Manchester Egg and a Gents built entirely from pages from Viz.
A lively pub, but at 9.30 everyone was seated, Track and Trace rigidly enforced, and no-one was singing Oasis choruses.
Shut down pubs again and they’ll all just go back to each others flats and exchange bodily fluids; then watch your blessed R rate soar, eh ?