Hurrah, it’s Friday and there is a gig to go to that features four very good bands for just ten of your English pounds. There is of course a downside to this – it’s in Wigan. Now, I have nothing against Wigan per se but I suspect its one-way system was actually designed by a bonafide demon one wet Sunday when he was bored with torturing individual souls. It’s worthy of being one of the outer roads of hell I think, so after driving around it aimlessly for far longer than I intended I finally find the Boulevard and somewhere to park that’s more or less in the same postcode as it. The Boulevard turns out to be a rather funky rock bar in a cellar under several much more “normal” pubs, so I settle in to enjoy the rest of the evening and try not to think about how the hell I am going to navigate home later!

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