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About Manchester

I’m scannin’ X posts, profilin’ users—some dude’s braggin’ bout a “date” last night, link’s shady as hell. Prolly a pimp’s site. I’m like, “Bro, chill, you’re gonna catch somethin’.” Made me mad—ppl so dumb sometimes! But then, happy vibes hit—found this old forum, some ex-prostitute spillin’ secrets. Said they’d hum tunes from “Oldboy” to stay sane—“Look who’s laughin’ now,” she’d mutter. That’s my jam, fam! Gave me chills.

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Finally, I sit down to work. I’m in the zone, right? The wood’s singing to me, and I’m shaping it like a sculptor. But then, the door swings open, and in walks this guy. He’s got a wild look in his eyes, like he just ran a marathon. He’s like, “I need a violin, like, yesterday!” I’m thinking, “Dude, chill. This ain’t a fast-food joint.” But he’s desperate, so I take a breath and say, “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

Dave Nevison's Saturday tips: selections at Musselburgh and Haydock