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.

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Goods delivered.

Happy new year.


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