come the glorious day

Manchester is over run with, infested with, plagued with, luxury flat developments. You'd think there'd be a limited on the number of feckwits with too much money who could afford urbane urban sophisticate open plan beech and chrome palaces in the sky but no. The skyline is still as full of cranes and scaffolding as ever, ever corner you turn you see old buildings being converted or new buildings going up, to provide more flats for yuppy wankers and more trendy bars for them to drink in. The BBC's northward relocation is going to make things worse. But of all of them, if I get to chose one to be the first to be blown up come the revolution, it will be this one:



This is 'The Hacienda', built on the site of the old Hacienda and marketed with the phrase that triggered a screaming rage everytime I cycled past it "The party's over. Now you can come home". Walking past it yesterday morning, as we walked along the canal into town, I read on the back of it a timeline of the Hac, and then the famous quote "That's all over. You'll never see the hacienda. It doesn't exist. The hacienda must be built".

Now, I wasn't much of a raver even when I were a lass and I only went to the Hac a few times. And I firmly believe Anthony H Wilson is an agent of Satan. But that's not really the point. What I hate is the way the city is being airbrushed and glossed over, everything sleek and clean and airbrushed and corporate. Stop homogenising my world!

Oh and I bet few of the wankers who live there know that where quote comes from, or have ever heard of situationism.

Rant over, back to work.

P.S. Freedom for Tooting!