Come traveller, take my hand as I drag you along through the dismal suburban winnit that is Droylsden. Situated just four grime-strewn miles East from the sprawling metropolis that is Manchester, Droylsden hosts a wide variety of sights and experiences that make it a fine place to leave.
Let us begin with the very heart of Droylsden – the precinct. Dominated by the vast grey concrete tumour that is the Concord Suite. A building so hideous that to gaze upon it leaves a stain on the scorched retinas of the observer. Imagine if you will, a building so hideous it makes the newly built Tameside Council Pension offices look like Cologne Cathedral. The Concord Suite – the bastard love child of a deranged architect and the multi storey car park from Get Carter – is surrounded by a collection of shops tawdry and humdrum by turn. Pawnbroker, bookmaker, cigs and newspapers, a greasy cafe and the jewel in the crown – a depressed branch of Boots the Chemist which wandered into town accidentally several years ago and forgot to leave. A branch of Greggs is a particular culinary favourite of the Droylsden population and many can be seen trudging Walking Dead-like through the precinct clutching the familiar blue and white paper bags with a cholesterol-enhancing cheese and bean melt poking forlornly from the open end. The lost, the lonely and the damned perch on the benches of Villemomble Square and shout at passing traffic or at the desperate hungry pigeons.
Across the road from the precinct and a little way down the road back towards Manchester lies the optimistically named Droylsden Marina and its accompanying housing development. Much was promised here by the developers – artists images showed glistening sun-dappled waterways with continental style restaurants and bars populated by glamorous and wholesome office workers and attractive young families strolling by. The reality is a grubby rubbish strewn canal, with rusting pushchairs vying for space on the canal bottom with broken bicycles. In the apartment blocks next to the canal, young families find the waterway a convenient spot to dispose of the used nappies that float along the canal surface like tiny neckless swans.
Droylsden nightlife consists of an ever-dwindling collection of dreary pubs such as The Beehive and the Kings Head and a seemingly ever-increasing number of takeaway establishments offering a range of a**e-blistering curries, kebabs and heart attack-inducing fried poultry. Those wishing to take part in late night fighting and shouty shenanigans are encouraged to visit these emporiums of lard.
The recent introduction of the Metrolink system allows residents/escapees a convenient way to travel to the bright and violent lights of Manchester or in the opposite direction to the town of Ashton Under Lyne which has recently been twinned with the fictional land of Mordor.