LOOK MAM, YOU CAN SEE HIS PACKED LUNCH!
God they were everywhere! Picking bugs off each other. Screeching. Sticking their backsides in each other faces. Peeing themselves. But Sky insisted on making the tickets for the English National Ballet/Opera event free so even common people were allowed into The Lowry.
Despite their best efforts, clapping in all the wrong places, turning up late, sitting in the wrong seats, mobile phones going off mid Don Quixote (‘Shakira! Shakira!’), the assembled povs failed to ruin an excellent show.
Following the show, and after delousing, Mrs Backroads and I headed off here for supper, before our late night run in with Superman.
Walking through the Printworks at midnight and on up through the cinema is like being in a scene from Total Recall. It just needed an alien foxtrumpet with three breasts to tap me on the shoulder with a proposition. As it was there were enough vaguely human foxtrumpets knocking about to engender mild throbbage.
The Printworks’ undercover street reminds me of one of those ‘Life In The Victorian Age’ street scenes that they have in museums. In the future, when they try to recreate early 21st Century life, it will be just like the Printworks on a Saturday night.
On Sunday, we went to Knowsley Safari Park where the baboons behaved better than the chavs hanging out of their cars begging to have digits removed.