From the Pabs Archives (9)

November 16, 2010

Manchester, so much to answer for

(Jack, 22.09.2004)

I am sitting next to a camp/anorexic look-a-like of the Native Indian from ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ who’s reading an article entitled “I hate my man hands”. Manchester, so much to…

I had another flat tyre – whey!

It hasn’t stop raining since I got here – whey!

Stockport, Oldham, Salford – no.

The team as a whole is good, there are ten of us – Britta, Britta, Sergio, Pascal, JJ, Tom, Sam, Petra, Stuart and myself. They are mostly of your 28-33 age range. And two team leaders Duncan and Mike Pratt.

Our team is led by Mike. Mike looks and walks like a policeman. He is upright with a rotund nose. Thinning dyed hair covers his square head and flat neck. He sells himself as the seen-it-all-before road manager – big in the seventies and eighties with bands on tour.

He suffers daily from his ‘Colombian Cold’ which is caught nightly at the bar in his linen pinstripe jacket. A man not gifted with tact and with a dormant sense of humour – he described the pool at our last hotel, having not been anywhere near it, as ‘Totty Soup’.

He drives a massive van containing the promotional bumf. He’s crashed one, tore the clutch on another and in a fit of rage he punched the windscreen of the third – shattering the glass.

Mike welcomed the new team member Petra ( a Irish/German/Brazialian girl?) by making her share his twin room. Petra has reported some naked parading from big Mike.

Thankfully he spends so much time rectifying his own problems we rarely see him.

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