OCCUPIED COUNTRY

The Royal Scam

There are a few things I've learned over the past few months as I've got pissed wet through sticking junk mail, glossy mags and the occasional letter through the front doors of the North West. One of the main things I have learned is that "those with the smallest letterboxes tend to subscribe to the bulkiest periodicals."

And fucking annoying it is too.

You would be surprised just how many doors from the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s still exist out there. Letterboxes from a bygone era. An era when A4 envelopes didn't exist. An era when gossamer-thin Airmail letters were de rigueur as the post-war dash to Australia, Canada and South Africa took root throughout the bombed out cities of this Sceptered Isle.

Now try getting a Viking catalogue through that. Or a Sky magazine. Or 95% of the pointless crap that's gets shoved through front doors these days.

After folding and bending and barking your knuckles and fingers trying to force the things through - multiplied a thousand-fold as the round progresses - your arms hang like string at your side.

But at least you can bask in the warm glow you feel knowing you're providing an essential service to the good folk of the neighbourhood. I mean how else would they receive information about savings to be made from Insurance companies, mobile phone providers, satellite TV providers. private medical companies, Nationwide pub chains...etc...etc...etc?

Fulfilling I tells yer. Fulfilling.

Still not for much longer. ;-)

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Last Saturday evening the local quiz team had its annual feast. This is a tradition going back six or seven years now. Any money we win on "Play Your Cards Right" (after the quiz has finished), we put in a pool and whoever has been in the team over the previous year is entitled to a meal from the cash.

This year we decided to go Brazilian (quiet at the back). Pau Brasil is an authentic new addition to the increasingly diverse nightlife of Manchester.

It was great. Highly recommended though vegetarians should probably give it a miss. Basically, for £20 a head, you help yourself to salads, veg and a few hot dishes while waiters come round with huge skewers of beef, lamb, chicken and fish. For two hours you can eat as much as you want and the only extras are for your drinks which are priced at the usual central Manchester rates - around £3.50 for a pint of Staropramen. What was already a great night was improved even more when, at the very next table, three of City's new superstars sat down with their families. Geovanni, Nery Castillo and Elano . Don't start mithering them I instructed Dearest, they're out for a quiet night before we play Everton on Monday evening. Give them some space.

Ten minutes later I went to the loo. Apparently, while I was away, Dearest instructed the rest of our team not to tell me about what she was about to do, whereupon she immediately waved at the trio cooing "Elano, Geovanni and....errr". Nery Castillo hadn't blipped on her radar at this point. She knew he was a player but that was it. To be fair they waved and smiled back and she shook Geovanni's hand as he was the closest. At this point I reappeared unaware of what had happened. I found out later when Youngest spilled the beans but by that time Dearest was well away. C'est la vie.

Still, it's a good advert fro a Brazilian restaurant if it's full of Brazilians and apparently the City lot are in there every other week.

And I won't blame them filling their faces on the fact that Everton took all three bloody points!

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Snap time.


The 'Air Shard' at the Northern War Museum.


The 'Air Shard' from Salford Quays.


The view from the 'Air Shard' looking over Salford Quays.


The new 'Media City', soon to be home of BBC Radio FiveLive. Salford Quays.


From Manchester, Victoria towards Liverpool.


The Manchester Wheel reflected in the Urbis building.