My hair! My beautiful hair!

It is raining quite hard and I haven't got an umbrella. I know real mean don't need umbrellas but then again real men do ghastly things like get drunk, eat kebabs and fancy Keira Knightley. Us metrosexuals are more concerned with the environment, buying soft furnishings and protecting the huge investment we have made in hair care products. Every drop of water hitting my head could be the one that turns my hair style from messy and stylish to just messy.

There's a big queue for the tram because of the football. I could be stood there for at least 12 minutes in the rain with my hair getting wetter and wetter. I decide to take the bus.

Taking the bus is a lot like taking the Metrolink, except the people are uglier, older and poorer and instead of showing adverts of Gary Neville in Malta, they show adverts stating that one in four women wet themselves and need a Tena lady pad. I count. There are 16 women on the bus. I look at four of them and wish I didn't know my "Times tables".

"Where are we now?" asks a very drunk football fan from Sunderland. His question is vaguely directed to anyone who is listening. I look out of the window and see the Hulme arch and the former location of the Cresents. "We're in Hulme, just near Moss Side." His face drains of colour faster than Jamie Oliver watching a kid eating a Turkey Twizzler.

The colour that drained straight out of the football fan has reappeared in a local, who is now red with rage and begins ranting, "This is not Hulme! This is St George's. Hulme is over there. How dare you call this Hulme! I live round here and we have nothing to do with Hulme. This is a 'nice' area. And its miles away from MOSS SIDE." He turns his head away from me and mutters "Idiot!"

He gets off the bus just by a large sign saying "Hulme Shopping Arcade".