Manchester – where have all the cloth caps gone?
The Smiths. The Stone Roses. Happy Mondays. That whole Madchester scene. Welcome to England's hippest city, reborn as the host of the 2002 Commonwealth Games, and now drowning in posh shops, tasty
restaurants and a social life which matches its claim to be a great European destination. That's the good news, and even better for Rangers fans on the march, you can still find a pint for £1.50 and buy your chips with mushy peas.
Rangers headquarters - Albert Square
You can't miss the city's most famous square which is earmarked as Ranger's fans "dedicated area", because it sits under Manchester's vast Town Hall. There's a big screen and outlets for as much over-priced official UEFA merchandise as you can carry. Convenient for the adjacent Bootle Street police station.
The Briton's Protection - a home from homes Almost too good to be true. One of Manchester's best traditional boozers, complete with union jacks, great beer and more than 150 whiskies. And, at 50 Great Bridgewater Street, The Briton's Protection is just round the corner from Albert Square.
What the IRA did for the Manchester – Exchange Square
In 1996 the Provisional IRA detonated the largest bomb to explode in Britain since the Second World War. A large chunk of Manchester was blown away, but so was its clothcap image, as outraged Mancunians set about rebuilding the "Millennium Quarter". Exchange Square was born, with its trendy pubs, cafes and shops.
Nightlife: Theatre or dance?
The city council's helpful "fan information guide" recommends that brainy Rangers fans attend the Library Theatre, the Opera House or the Lowry Centre. The rest of us will be in the Fab Cafe, 111 Portland Street, a dark cave filled with daleks and sci-fi weirdness, or at 42nd Street, at the junction of Bootle Street and Deansgate, a Manchester indy institution.
It's queer up North
Don't be a square, Albert. Manchester's throbbing "gay village" is close to Rangers fans' city centre HQ. Try Manto, 46 Canal Street, the "mixed" style bar which started a revolution. Or take a taxi to Cupid's, a swinging club on Sutherland Street, Swinton, with a reputation for satisfying Glaswegian clients. Make sure it's not your round when the £50 membership charge is mentioned.
Where's the tripe?
Old fashioned delicacies like cowheel, tripe and sarsaparilla may be off the menu these days, but there's plenty of good grub. Try Stock, 4 Norfolk St for superb Italian food, and Gaucho's, 2a St Mary's St, decadent, opulent and Argentinean. China Town, close to Albert Square, is packed with cheap restaurants – try the Pan Asia for a-better-than-average buffet.
Cathedral Gardens – clean, wholesome fun Part of the Millennium Quarter and on Wednesday home to a wholesome three-a-side football tournament for local kids. Adult refreshments are available in the nearby Printworks bar and restaurant complex.
The beautiful game
It's just a tram ride to Manchester United's club shop and museum, offering a chance to gaze on the many trophies won by Sir Alex Ferguson and his merry men. Alternatively, step out early for the cup final, and visit the Manchester City Experience Museum, where you can admire the carpets.
Old Manchester
Have a shufti inside the John Rylands Library, the City Art Gallery or the Town Hall, and take in their stunning Victorian opulence. Once the pubs have opened, beetle off to Castlefield, where the city's industrial heritage has been refurbished in a variety of popular venues, including BarCa, Duke's and the Rain Bar, which takes its name from the prevailing weather conditions in the city.
New Manchester
The Beetham Tower is the soaring skyscraper which dominates the city, and Cloud 23, at the top of the Hilton Hotel, commands a stunning view. It's a 15-second elevator ride to the summit - but you might have to book.
Dining at the City of Manchester stadium Thai is the flavour of the month and Swedish meatballs are off. But try the dish named in honour of the Sky Blues' most famous fans, the Gallagher Brothers. That's the Oasis Soup – you getta roll with it.
Speak Mancunian"Now then, our kid" - "Hello, my friend."
"Y'alright, our kid – "Hello, my friend."
"Ay up, our kid" – "Hello, my friend."
"Sound" – "I am well, thank you."
"Booger. Me keks are soaked wi' Boddies." - "Oh dear, some beer has been spilt on my trousers."
"Bobbins" – Dreadful. As in "Zenit are bobbins."
"Ref, tha'd mither a boathorse till it dropt in t' cut" – "Referee, your persistent interference would cause the horse pulling a barge to fall into the canal."
"Yer not gerrin in. Yer look like wreck o'th'Esperus." – "No entry without a tie"
Mike WadeAIDAN SMITH
"In order to help Rangers, Christmas Day will shift to March 27"NUMBER of you wrote in after last week's column on Rangers. You were intrigued by my mention of the Lee McCulloch nightlight and wanted to know where you could buy one.
Sorry, but I made it up. Same with the Kirk Broadfoot coasters (set of six), the Carlos Cuellar big slipper and the limited-edition Kris Boyd fireplace figurine in clear or frosted glass (two styles – chewing gum on the bench or the "action pose", ten yards offside). Such highly desirable souvenirs of Rangers' remarkable season simply don't exist.
But I reckon if we keep talking about them, myth will become fact and an enterprising manufacturer will leap into action. If we all wish hard enough, then Charlie Adam vallances could be on sale at a gas lighter-and-towelling socks stall in Glasgow's Argyle Street by Tuesday.
Actually, I made everything up. The souvenirs and the letters. You did write, but not about the availability of commemorative Barry Ferguson-shaped crispy wheat-based snacks. You were angry that I don't seem to be getting firmly behind Rangers' bid for Euro glory.
Bluenoses, where's your sense of humour? When Billy Connolly declares, as he did the other day, that Glaswegians are world-class at seeing the funny side, there was no suggestion that Rangers fans had been excluded from this assessment. I know Rangers draw support from lots of strange places, including Edinburgh, which the Big Yin doesn't rate as a centre of comedy excellence. But I'm from Edinburgh and I'm at least trying to smile.
Every single one of us should be grinning like a maniac. That way, we might unnerve all those people who are laughing at Scottish football.
By "all those people" I of course mean "the world". It seems that every week we cause a worldwide outbreak of guffaws. The manner of George Burley's appointment as national coach made us a "laughing stock".
Gretna's demise made us a "laughing stock" and so, too, the Motherwell pitch. Now Rangers chairman David Murray claims the refusal by the game's beaks to ease his club's fixture congestion is prompting yet more chortling and once again the entire planet is joining in.
I'm not sure about this. It pre-supposes the world knows that Scottish football exists, far less gives a stuff. But assuming it is true, the best way of killing the laughter is for Rangers to win the UEFA Cup.
I never said I didn't want them to win it. That's a double negative and you don't get anywhere with one of them. Correction: you can reach a Euro final with tactics that even Ibrox diehards were dubbing "Wattenaccio", back in the days when they still retained some wit because no one really thought the club could make it to Manchester.
Now they have, Rangers fans have got awfully serious.
All I said last week was that supporters of other Scottish clubs find Rangers difficult to love. The Rangers faithful know this to be the case, and wouldn't have it any other way. But there is no more persecuted species, in their own heads, than Old Firm fans (Celtic's lot are just as bad).
How can the two teams at the top of Scottish football's dinosaur food chain stomp around like Tyrannosaurus Rex and at the same time seek the sympathy of prehistoric plankton? Beats me.
We are the ones at the bottom of the heap, the clubs forced to subsist on scraps and make our own fun, such as the text pinged my way yesterday: "In order to help Rangers, the Fair Fortnight will now begin on the September weekend which in turn has been moved to January 2.
Christmas Day will shift to March 27, New Year's Day will stay where it is but only last three hours and all birthdays will be cancelled and all pregnancies will last 13 months. Hope this clarifies the situation."
So come on, big, horrible Rangers, win the cup for Scotland. We'll all raise a toast – in a handsome and envy-of-your-friends Allan McGregor goblet – to that.
The full article contains 1487 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
