The tiniest tavern in town

The tiniest tavern in town

Like aVictorian game of Tetris where the buildings din't land neat,Lies thehiggerldy piggerldy architecture of Manchester's Portland Street,Yet secretedin this skyline of roofs that just don't blend,Lies a wellbrewed Mancunian treasure, a perfect hidden gem.
"Squeezein, shuffle in, there's room for just two more,"It'sstaggering how many drinkers squeeze through that tavern's door,Just roomfor thirty people and still I'll sit on someone's knee,Yetthousands of folk stare back at me from every place I see,
Theireyes, their eyes are everywhere, bearing down on me,Thousandsof folk all staring back and smiling relentlessly,Everyone ishappy yet none of them speak or change their pose, Generationsof drinkers, or just the famous ones I suppose.
Coz thesmallest pub in our city has the biggest welcome in the world,Whereevery drinking celeb in town is proudly unfurled,A real stargazer's paradise, a celebrity stalker's passion,With boozer'sfaces stuck to the wall in time honourary fashion,
Thisboozer's five-a-side team would beat any on the planet,It'd win everyweek down at the Pitz until they'd have to ban it,Coz Bestie'sthere of course he is, along with Franny Lee,Keano,Parker, Robson... Nobby and Paddy.
But it ain'tjust the footballers who've had a pint in this tiny bar,From TonyH to Muhammad Ali they've come from near and far,Actorslike Ray Winston, musicians by the score,It's anear infinite list of celebrity and I don't want to bore.
But this photowall of famous folk spans every generation, Whilst twofootball teams lie side by side without any altercation,Two tinyrooms, a tiny bar, your mates'll never lose yer,Just loseyour inhibitions in Manchester's smallest boozer.
It used tobe the meeting place for all the acts they used to have on,When 18thcentury circus folk would drink in the Circus Tavern,Coz thereused to be a big top close by on ChathamStreet,So thistavern was where trapeze artists and lion tamers'd meet.
The clientele'sstill colourful and will always have a tale,As the barmaid and the drinkers pass down your real ale,It floatsthough the crowd and to your seat, no room to be nervous,There'sreally no more intimate pint than the one the Circus serves us.
Its size makesthis place special as I feel like I belong,As drinkershuddle together... forming just one throng, One chat, oneconversation and just one subject matter,Everyopinion is invited as the regulars natter and natter.
But withall the faces on the wall it really makes me think,Sinceopening time in 1790, how many folk have bought a drink?Since thedays of that long gone circus and cries of roll up, roll upHow manyfolk have squeezed in here for an intimate, friendly sup?
A hundred thousanddrinkers? A million, probably more,I'd liketo see every single face stuck onto their photo wall,
Coz a staggering number of drinkers have crammed into that tiny space,They'd need every inch in this city if they printed every face!
Copyright©2011 by Phil MartinAll rights reserved.
Manchester-based crime novels by me
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