2004-07-21

Sorry I haven�t been updating more. Now that I�m not spending the greater part of my days twitching robotically in front of a computer screen, maintaining my website has become a chore rather than a diversion. And working in a bar has done the same thing for drinking. All-round tragedy.

But life isn�t entirely horrible. I�m enjoying Manchester very much. Manchester is funny. For starters:

a) The hookers carry umbrellas. Yes. They may be so crazy sketched-out on crack that they�ll suck a syphilis-infected cock for a fiver, but damned if they�ll get their hair wet doing it, mister.

b) Manchester has gangstaz. This is not surprising or original, but hearing a hardass brotha, up to his gold teeth in bling, say �Giv�oos a smile there, pretty bird!� is just such a treat.

c) The second most prolific business in Manchester, after curry takeaways (I swear, there is a curry takeaway for every three people in Manchester. I worry that if I don�t purchase my allotted share of vegetable Biryani and naan bread every week, I will be putting some struggling Pakistani family out of business) is tanning salons. There is a tanning salon on every corner. The Brits love them some fake sunshine! Ironic, since they apparently have no idea what to do with the genuine article: when the sun does make an occasional appearance, everyone walks around with their coats on, looking all squinty and uncomfortable (but beautifully bronzed).

And though I am neither a hooker nor a gangsta, or even remotely tanned (naturally or otherwise), I am beginning to be assimilated. The other day, God help me, I gave someone their pint and heard myself say, �Here you go, love.� Resistance is futile!