City Life

Being a small-town boy, it never fails to amuse and/or amaze me the variety of life you get on the streets of a city on a Saturday. As a kid, I was just used to nothing else but a drunk trying to scrounge 20p off you.

Manchester is no exception. Wandering around in a desperate (and so far failed) attempt to find suitable attire for a wedding in a few weeks, I saw all manner of sorts desperate to gain my attention for whatever end they desired.

I'm sure it's the same across the country and probably Europe too. There's always the religious nutters, for starters. Market Street in Manchester has a couple to choose from. First, there was a couple of fellows taking turns standing on a chair and ranting at all and sundry. To give them their dues, they seemed to have garnered the attention of quite a crowd, though how many were there from amusement rather than hanging on every word as if they came from Jesus himself is up for debate.

Up the road there was another, though he'd taken the trouble to put up a stand of some sorts informing us that the bible is the word of the lord. I managed to resist the temptation to go and tell him that Alex Ferguson hasn't got that honour yet, and in any case, he uses the match day programme to spread his good word.

It's not all folk telling me I'm set to burn in the pit for all eternity, though. Outside HMV there was some young lassie belting out what I imagine are the top pop hits of today. You get a few of these sorts trying their best since whoever that breakdancing kid who started out on the same patch did well on TV. However, it seemed her setlist was a bit on the limited side, as passing by over a couple of hours seemed to show her repeating the same three or four songs.

Elsewhere, we had a very earnest looking duo of lads (one singing, one bashing out chords on his acoustic) trying their hardest to emote how depressed they are. Or something. Plus there's the obligatory "living statue" trick, though this one was at least polite enough to offer lollipops to those who threw him some small change.

It's all part of the character of a city - and much as I find most of these acts/preachers/lunatics a bit trying, I wouldn't want them out of Manchester. Just a shame that guy with the out-of-tune guitar who stood outside Boots is long gone. I miss his weird interpretations of glam rock.