Suckling At The Teet

We had intended to go to a fetish night in Manchester on Saturday evening but due to illness and a range of other circumstances far too long-winded to go into, we didn't. However, as we had already booked the hotel room and we could "cancel but not get a refund", we decided to go to Manchester anyway.

Eschewing the minimeet - it'll be a cold day in hell before I go to that God-awful bar again - we met up with Enteirah, Baloki, Miles and Panthras for a lip smacking curry and a few drinks in local hostelries. The opossums came with no less than nine chutneys, a record for me, while The Oast House was a nice bar even though it was rammed. We had to sit outside due to it's popularity, something which could not be said for the main city square, whose giant sparkly lighty Santa looked all alone without the Christmas Market acting as doody under him.

Afterwards we went to the BrewDog bar, our third on our BrewDog tour, where I sucked at snakes and ladders, and we tried yet more new beers, specifically the 41% Sink The Bismarck which was very smooth and tasted like whisky.

Sunday saw us head back into Manchester again to have Sunday lunch at a new restaurant which had only just opened. It wad a bit like Fawlty Towers in that we were served by a Spanish waiter who couldn't understand English. It took him all of two minutes to work out we wanted to know what the soup of the day was, while he then went on to erroneously tell us steak was on the Sunday lunch menu. Afterwards, when clearing our plates, Miles wanted to take some home in a doggy bag, which he expressed to the waiter but then the waiter just threw out the remains. After this, the credit card machine had stopped working so we had to traipse to another establishment across the road to pay there. The food itself was excellent, particularly for the price, and the manager was very apologetic but it was a little bit of a shambles. £3.80 for a pint of coke was a bit steep too.

After all this, we headed back to Piccadilly station where we picked up some curry flavoured crisps made by Warburtons, the bread people. They were nice but not particularly spicy, even the hot ones. We then caught up with a few other furs over a drink before heading our separate ways after a nice weekend.

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