Whilst the idea of paying £30 to get into a packed club over filled with inebriated night-cattle sounded delightful, I figured I’d much rather catch up with one of Manchesters old school heros, smash a few bags of Haribo and watch the fireworks from the St Peters cranes. You know the score for towercrane security up here nowadays, its ropes or nope.
Goods delivered.
Happy new year.
