The M.E.N. does a list of “5 Things To Do In Manchester This Weekend” that usually includes watching live music, attending art exhibits and visiting museums. But that’s a list of things that we know we should be doing, what will actual people actually be doing this weekend?
1. Throwing up all over their shirts outside neon lit nightclubs
The Printworks’ cobbled walkway suggests a rustic early-modern European urban area; the sight of scores of people passed out and projectile vomiting confirms this tableau to be set around the time of the Black Death.
Martin, 24, is a shelf stacker at ASDA in Moss Side, for this he is paid £6.95 by a company whose profits are up 6% because capitalism is really shit. He said “I’ve got a degree in Art History from a red brick uni and I spend 5 days a week putting fucking loo roll on shelves. And people seem to be surprised that at the weekends I choose to drink so much I’m a little bit sick over my new Ben Sherman shirt?”
His friend and work colleague, Phil 26, said, “I’m treated like shit by some jumped bellend supervisor who wants to know why I don’t smile more at work. Maybe because I’m on less than the living wage, I can barely afford rent and every weekend consists of downing bright blue alchopops and getting into the most poorly justified fights since the Iraq War.”
When it was pointed out to Phil that there was a wealth of cultural events in Manchester this weekend including beat poetry and a vegan food taster session at Sandbar he replied that he would like to go, but unfortunately he was not enough of, “a fucking pretentious dickhead”.
2. Talking shit at each other under the influence of various drugs.
In Fallowfield John, 20, will be hosting a house party for, “a few friends off my course, you know, a few cool heads, pretty relaxed really”.
It is expected that presence of large quantities of alcohol, marijuana and MDMA will lead to some intellectual clashes between Laura, who is taking a break from her dissertation on how intersectionality in feminism offers a challenge to traditional white, middle-class and straight critiques of patriarchy and Michael, an undergraduate in Film and Media in Salford. Expert analysis of previous arguments Laura and Michael have been in shed some light on their traditional debating styles and may offer some predictions of what will spark this particular disagreement off. It is suggested that after around three lines of Mandy and a bottle of wine Michael will broach the subject of gay marriage, the argument will last for about twenty minutes and end with Michael chivalrously calling Laura, “a fucking dyke whore”. Laura will likely respond that Michael is a “fucking shit for brains bigot” before angrily storming out of the room, accidentally knocking a mug that is being used an ashtray over in the process. Jeremy Paxman is deemed unlikely to be in attendance.
Unaware of what experts believes lies in store for his little shindig John is preparing for the party by buying plastic cups, making a Facebook event and hiding his guitar in case some twat starts playing Wonderwall, badly
3. Having disappointing sex with a stranger
Under the advice of her friends to “forgot about that creep” and “just have some fun” Lucy, a 27 year old travel agent will likely find herself drunk and with a similarly inebriated gentleman in her apartment. Due to the volumes of alcohol consumed by both parties Lucy will most likely find herself trying to coax a flaccid penis into life with her mouth whilst ignoring the repeated farting of her pissed paramour for the evening. After ten minutes of this it is believed the gentleman in question will concede, “I don’t think anything’s happening” and that “maybe we should just cuddle”. An unsatisfied Lucy may get herself to sleep by imagining the impotent gentleman who she met in Birdcage crying as his pets die in front of him.
4. Freezing to death whilst wankers ignore your suffering
As a testimony to the continuing strength of Margaret Thatcher’s legacy, even after her death, a homeless man will this weekend freeze to death in a cruel and heartless world.
Ross, 47, is used to hearing that he should “get a job” usually said without irony by people who work in wholly made up finance jobs and spend enough on a haircut that they could provide shelter for a human being for a fortnight. Ross, a former squaddie suffering from PTSD, points out, “if I hadn’t fought in Iraq then their natural resources wouldn’t have been privatised leading to huge gains for those who were invested heavily in oil futures.”
Ross’ death on Saturday from exposure will come around 34 after the death of society, the results of which allowed a particularly smug prick who is involved in “short-selling foreign currencies” or some shit to walk straight past someone in dire need.
The reporters were unable to ascertain Ross’ views on his noble sacrifice in dying quietly due to the withdrawal of Whitehall cash from a local homeless shelter in order that millionaires would be given a tax cut by some other millionaires. He is also understood to be unclear on the irony of the fact he will die with a Starbuck cup holding £2.48 worth of change in front of him, a sum that will not buy him a coffee from the chain, but is probably more than they pay in tax to support social services to help people like him, the corporate shits.
5. Pretending your relationship isn’t dead
A young couple that have been together for 6 months will be spending the weekend sat together on the sofa, watching The Voice and pretending that their relationship, and perhaps even just their lives, still have some form of meaning.
When the pair met at a Didsbury book club they instantly bonded over a shared love of Ian McEwan’s Atonement. But what started off as a fun and rewarding bond of companionship between two people has quickly turned into a cross between Annie Hall and Waiting for Godot.
Alice, a 32 year old teacher is expected to spend the weekend ignoring her boyfriend’s low level insensitivity by telling herself that her body-clock is ticking and if she wants kids she’ll just have to make this one work. Similarly Tim, a 34 year old IT consultant is prepared to pretend that Alice’s selfishness is not such a big deal as he is haunted by the fear that he will die alone.
The pair will order a Chinese but upon its arrival Alice will tell Tim that, “you know I don’t like fucking chicken satay, God you are the worst!” whilst Tim is certain to reply, “Well I’ve paid for it now, just fucking eat it!”
The meal will likely be consumed in silence whilst the feuding couple watch the utter garbage that makes up much of Saturday night fare in Britain, cry quietly inside and think about how much longer it is till their own deaths.