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Gordo, Alison Goldfrapp and Esther O’Callaghan.

There’s a mad bird knocking about Manchester, called Esther O’Callaghan. Good looking, fab figure. But dangerous. Let Gordo expand...

Written by . Published on April 21st 2006.

Gordo, Alison Goldfrapp and Esther O’Callaghan.

There’s a mad bird knocking about Manchester, called Esther O’Callaghan. Good looking, fab figure. But dangerous. Let Gordo expand...

XFM Radio, the station of choice for ManchesterConfidential.com, kindly sent Gordo tickets for the Goldfrapp gig at The Ritz, that little palace on Whitworth street, so Gordo decided to eat at the Didsbury Village Restaurant ‘early doors’, with Gemma and Lindsay from the office. Two bottles of Tavel Rosé later, the threesome jumped into The Bees Knees Limo, (fancy a car and driver for the evening? Click here) arriving at the Ritz in good time to grab a beer having picked up Coby Langford along the way. Well, five actually, before Goldfrapp came on stage. Our Stephen Fairbanks has done the official review of the evening, you can read that by clicking here.

Gordo shot straight to the front as the delicious Alison Goldfrapp came on stage and started dancing. This normally happens at two in the morning at The Circle Club and serves as the marker that lets him know it’s time to stop boozing. Unfortunately, having cleared a three foot diameter dance area for himself (it’s hard to ignore an elephant dancing- Ed) Gordo felt a tap on his shoulder; turning round he was confronted by Esther O’Callaghan, wearing a mad smile and gripping two pints, one for Gordo. Hey Ho. Alex Poots was in tow looking bewildered but happy.

The crowd were a bit weird. They were standing like statues, Gordo felt for poor old Alison; it took a while for things to come together. Gordo and Esther just carried on dancing. Gordo looked a ‘right knob’ according to one gay PR man.

Gordo was certainly following someone’s advice, that piece that goes ‘dance like no-one is watching’. We had a ball. Gordo had discovered a VIP area earlier on the balcony, but wasn’t let in. Some cheeky sod was waving at Gordo, then giving him the w*nker hand. It’s a good job Gordo didn’t have his glasses on.

After the Gig, we all went to Piccolinos for a couple of bottles of Prosecco with Ettore, one of the best hosts in Manchester. Then, on to Mojo, to finish up getting completely battered with the lads from the Cocoa Rooms. The three of us were paralysed-drunk by this time; the weird thing was that Loonie O’Callaghan was totally unaffected. It’s hats off to her, Gordo stumbled home at five minutes to three. It’s been a bad day today. Take Manchester Confidential’s advice; steer clear of O’Callaghan, but don’t forget Mojo bar. It’s the only place open on a Tuesday at that time, it’s a cool bar, the music is awesome and the team behind the bar are outstanding.

Happy Trails

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