G-A-Y @ Manchester.

To start, let me say: I hate G-A-Y in Manchester, and this is a photo of the only good night I’ve ever had there (with Cole, Katie and m’self).
Their door policy is criminal; what may be accepted in London (read: if they think you don’t “look gay enough”/”look straight enough”/”wear gay enough brands”/”come often enough”/”represent ‘gay culture’ to their exacting standards”/etc., then you’re not allowed in) should not be accepted on Canal Street, a place that’s always been about accepting everyone, celebrating everything, and never discriminating.

I could moan on and on about it until the cows come home, but nevertheless, here is the one surviving photo of the one good night I’ve ever had in there (because, at £1.50 a drink, it’s really rather easy to get so drunk that the hatred dissipates almost entirely).