As a Manchester City fan (not to mention a human being), you can imagine my reaction to José Mourinho declaring life in Manchester “a disaster”. The United manager feels trapped living in a swanky suite at the Lowry hotel; his only comfort a reported £10m-a-year salary. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde on the death of Little Nell, one would have a heart of stone not to read this tragic tale without dissolving into tears … of laughter.
However, I am a Mancunian who cannot let this slight on my city lie. So, how could Mourinho get more out of Manchester?
His first error was allowing United to billet him in the Lowry. “I just want to cross the bridge and go to a restaurant,” wails Mourinho, fearful, apparently, of running the papparazzi gauntlet. Were he living at the Palace hotel, he could simply pop downstairs to the city’s newest, much-praised hangout/restaurant/DJ bar, the Refuge (try the blitzed beetroot with smoked feta, dill and hazelnuts, José). Relocate to the Midland Hotel and he could dine daily in the stiff, undeniably glamorous, doggedly Michelin-chasing restaurant, the French.
Indeed, if Mourinho is desperate, why has no-one mentioned San Carlo to him? Just across that bridge from the Lowry, this underwhelming Italian has been offering footballers sanctuary for years. He would eat better at several hidden gems (VNam, Siam Smiles, Yuzu, etc), but when Cristiano Ronaldo was at United, he virtually lived there.
This implies Mourinho cannot, as he protested, “walk a little bit” in Manchester, unmolested. As ex-City striker Edin Dzeko (who I once spotted in Costa in the Arndale) could tell him, that is rubbish. Mancunians coolly pride themselves on not giving a toss about famous people – particularly if they frequent the right places.
From the Lowry, Mourinho could walk down Chapel Street to the experimental art-music space, Islington Mill. It’s dark. It’s noisy. He would barely register. Similarly close, the tiny PS Mirabel and Paper galleries (while they do not have Home or the Whitworth gallery’s scope) are places where a man can contemplate art, life and dropping Wayne Rooney in peace.
Likewise, he could hide in Manchester’s boho Northern Quarter. As a fan of Sting and Genesis, he should first sort out his appalling music taste at Piccadilly Records, before visiting menswear store Oi Polloi to buy some proper clobber, finishing with a pint in Common or the Smithfield (up north, José, your love of wine and Armani is conspicuous). Neither pub allows large, rowdy groups in, so no paparazzi.
As a final resort, Mourinho could buy a house. Manchester prices are far lower than London’s, but rising fast. It is a great investment – even if, should United continue to nosedive, he won’t be around for long.
