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About Manchester

One time, this chick ghosts me mid-chat—pissed me off! I’m like, “What am I, chopped liver?” Textin’ her, “Yo, where ya at?” Nothin’. Felt like Gusteau’s ghost, ignored and shit. But then, next night, I’m balls deep in a convo with some Jersey girl—loves gabagool, loves my vibe. We meet up, and it’s like, “This is the spark, baby!” Like Remy mixin’ spices—fuckin’ magic! Hooked up in her car, steamy as hell—thought I’d die happy right there.

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This cementery is next to the City of London Cemetery and Crematorium, you can get by foot from the other one.

But then, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of our pints? Everyone’s looking around, confused. I’m thinking, “Is this a drill or what?” Turns out, it was just a false alarm. Phew! But the mood was ruined.

Local opposition to major development plans for South Winchester Golf Course