I first met Tom Molloy I guess four or five years ago. This was when I was accidentally and inadvertently invited to the launch of his then latest book ‘Walking down Deansgate.’ The launch was at the Peveril and on the way home from there on the Met I began to read the copy of his book that Tom had given to me. I was laughing quietly to myself on that journey and quickly consumed the rest of the two hundred or so pages. 

 

A few days later I met up with Tom to find out more. “It all needs recording,” Tom told me, “because diaries are just kept by the upper class. Their lives won’t reflect what real life was like.” And that in a nutmeg describes what Tom writes about. Manchester life, Manchester humour, Manchester people. ‘Walking down Deansgate’ records Tom’s travels watching footy, going to music gigs and generally partying. It is an amalgam of observations; funny, often excoriating situations and people. 

 

For example: “I got on the late night 43 at The Refuge. I sat near the stairs and a woman on the seat in front burst into song at the top of her voice. A one woman toothless flash choir. A vodka infused rendition of Bowies Life on Mars. ‘Take a look at the lawmen beating up the wrong guy.’ Mesmerising. Looking like Susan Boyle in a leather mini after a heavy night, she trudged off in Rusholme to no applause but much relief.’

 

Or, on Gary Neville: “Pomona Island is looking ever like Alcatraz. Anything owned by mad Monopoly player Gary ‘stick a hotel on it’ Neville is another.”

 

But a few days ago Tom emailed me: “I’ve written a play, I’ll drop a copy in to you.” Now this seemed a bit of a departure for Tom, but when he did drop a copy in it was clearly just a different format but the same Mancish content. This time the often swerving dialogue between eight friends reuniting on a train journey to London. The book’s title page states ‘based on a true story,’ but when I questioned Tom a little about the origin he told me that it was a collection of snippets of conversation that he’s mentally collected over many years. That the eight characters are amalgams of separate characters, and their individual snippets moulded into the cast: Phil, Carol, Gary, Paul, Steve, Paul no 2, Stewart and Matthew. 

 

The intro states: ‘An intense study of group psychology and hierarchy. Or eight mates get drunk on a train.’ Precisely. 

 

I can only provide a sample snippet here, just as there are samples of ‘Walking down Deansgate’ earlier. 

 

Carol: ‘I didn’t notice much difference then going through Stockport did you?’

Phil: ‘Never change that place.’

Paul: ‘Ah, but it’s been named as one of the most upcoming areas of the UK.’

Carol: ‘One of the papers said it’s going to be like a new Berlin.’

Paul 2: ‘Can see the connection, they’ve already got the bad dress sense.’

Paul: ‘And an unhealthy obsession with sausages.’ 

Phil: ‘Should build a wall around it, not knock one down.’

Matthew: ‘A couple of years ago I had to get the bus to work from there. On the way home I nearly got stranded in Mersey Square. It was desolate. I was just wondering if I’d ever get home and this West Indian dude wandered up and said, “My friend, take my word, the Lord Jesus is coming very soon and I said, what, before the 369?”’

 

Yes, Tom’s play – like his books – makes me laugh. But when we sat down for a brew he said that the play should have an age warning: ‘Anyone under the age of 55 won’t understand a lot of it.’ And he’s right I guess. The title of the play – ‘The Barber of Shudehill’ – is based on Clayton Blackmore desperately searching for someone to tend to his hair. But if you don’t know who Clayton Blackmore was, then it won’t be funny and you’re probably under 55.

 

Tom’s books – and play – can be bought on Lulu.com and search for Tom Molloy.