How to get white girl wasted in Manchester

How to get white girl wasted in Manchester

*Disclaimer* you do not have to be white nor a girl to get white girl wasted. The term was coined as an insult to white females between the age of 17-30 as typically, they can not hold their liquor. But don’t worry everyone can be white girl wasted if you drink so much that you slur your words, talk about your ex and/or sway when you stand.

On Thursday the 23rd of February 2017 storm Doris hit the UK, causing chaos with Britain’s travel. Trees fell on train tracks, buildings were damaged and cars were crushed.

But at 8:40 on Thursday Morning I was sat comfy and smug on my Virgin Atlantic fast train from London Euston to Manchester Piccadilly. My walk to the tube that morning had been slightly windy but nothing extreme. I’d decided that all the weather warnings were just a precaution and nothing much would come of this whole ‘storm’ nonsense.

Lack of WiFi on the train meant that the work I could do before my 11am meeting in the Manchester office was pretty limited. I decided to read the latest white paper created about ‘Risk Management’ – including a travel company’s responsibility for travelers affected by severe weather. Oh the irony.

About half an hour into the journey it was announced that the train had been assigned a new speed limit of 50 mph. And then that a tree had fallen onto the tracks. All in all my train took more than twice as long as it should have to reach its destination.

When I did arrive in Manchester the walk was a real struggle. Every time I lifted up my foot to take a step I’d loose my balance and nearly fall to the floor. My newly cut fringe did not enjoy the strong winds.

Then half way through the afternoon I received a tweet from Virgin Atlantic trains announcing that all trains back to London that day had been cancelled but tickets would be accepted the next day.

It looked like I was having a spontaneous night in Manchester.

Better call the girls.

We’re going to get WGW.


1. Get a well located hotel.

Location is very important. The storm was beginning to settle but I still wanted a quick walk to the hotel after work because
a) It was cold
b) I am lazy
c) More time to drink please.
Work very kindly put me up in the Mercure Manchester Piccadilly, very close to the train station and my office.

Manchester Piccadilly is where I’d be departing from the next morning– like Odysseus tackling the high seas after the battle of Troy.

Hyperbole? I’ll let you decide.

As soon as I found out I was staying the night I’d messaged my home gal Rosie aka Bridget Jones. Bridget decided to do a second degree in order to improve the lives of others and add value to society therefore she is studying Medicine in ‘Madchester’. She is also addicted to the sesh.

She of course did the only logical thing to do in such a situation and packed a bag, gathered two of her pals I’d met and had a boogy with the weekend before and head to meet me outside my office.

Me and Bridget walked into the hotel, smugly checked into our 8th floor room and preceded to glam our selves up to meet the girls at dinner.


2. Enjoy a fancy dinner worthy of Instagram.

Bridget booked a restaurant in the Northern Quarter called Evelyn’s Café Bar. The menu had several vegan options but also a lot a fish / meat. It was the perfect place for a diverse group of foodies.

It was also one of the most Instagram – worthy places I have ever been.

Plants dangled from the ceiling along with bronzed lighting fixtures, a book shelf on the end wall displayed an array of art, signs and sculptures worthy of any Urban Outfitters display room.

The chef’s were cooking in an open, blue tiled Kitchen which emphasized the coziness of the venue and its casual atmosphere. I enjoyed a tofu, courgette and cauliflower main cooked in a curried sauce, followed by a delightful espresso martini. The restaurant wasn’t cheap but it was worth it.

Of course through this meal we had been sipping through a bottle of house white and talking about everything from the previous weekend’s night out to Hidden, work, boys, girls, studies and storm Doris.

Unfortunately I haven’t made my fortune yet so there’s only so long you can spend in a Instagram worthy, hipsters paradise before the sinking reality of your shoe string budget plummets you back to reality and you decided to find a student bar.

Even if you graduated two years ago.

London I love you but please gimmie back my money.


3. Bubbles.

Yes here I am complaining about money but as soon as we found a good bar we ordered Prosecco. It was £20 a bottle, divided by 4 is £5 each which is cheaper than a beer in most London bars.


Stop judging me; it all seemed like a great idea at the time. When getting WGW the point is to loose all sense and sensibility so really I had full control of the situation. Because it was all intentional. Duh.

In hindsight I probably should have kept the fact that I was staying the night secret and hid in my hotel room with a packet of walkers counting my pennies until pay day but you’re only young once and I’ve become quite accustomed to my overdraft.

It would miss me if I paid it off.

I’m just thinking of the poor overdraft, nobody likes overdraft, overdraft gets bullied, I’m the only one who’s nice to overdraft

Any who, it wouldn’t be a girls night if you didn’t get a bottle of bubbles and take a boomerang of you all cheersing; those are the like the rules of feminism.

Don’t you dare say that making a Mean Girls reference is against the rules of feminism because I am 23 in 2017 so that movie shaped my passage to adulthood.


4. Cheap cocktails.

I’d like to clarify at this point that my spontaneous overnight stay in Manchester did not mean that I didn’t have to go to work Friday morning. In fact it meant that I was going to have to wake up early, get to Manchester Piccadilly and get back to my office in Kings Cross at a decent hour.

So at this point after Wine, tofu, Prosecco and an Espresso Martini I should have called it a night and gone back to my Mecure hotel.

But naaaaaah. I was in Madchester, Rosie had to go to Bournemouth the following day so we were going to make the journey to London together. There’s great strength in numbers.

And cocktails in this place where two for a tenner so it’s a no brainer really.

Plus the spirits mixed with Wine and Prosecco will get you more drunk then just sticking to wine so it’s like saving money?

We hadn’t ventured out of the northern quarter and were in a venue called ‘Odd Bar’ on Thomas Street. I don’t really know what was odd about it but I liked it. There’s a bar on each floor and we sat in a booth on the top floor underneath a large red light which resembled something from a geisha’s tea house.


5. Late night tourism

At this point the group split in half, Lucy and Rose had to wake up early to raise money for The Children’s Society by selling donuts. If you want to help Rose earn money for the charity please donate here. A very physical job which nobody wants to take part in with a severe hangover as this would only lead to hangover carb snacking on said donuts and eventually falling asleep on a bed made entirely of Krispy Kreme. Heaven or hell? Either way, sticky.

Me and Bridget took this opportunity to go on a bit of adventure. We said goodbye to the ‘Northern Quarter’ and made the journey down past ‘Gay Village’ into ‘Spinningfields’.

On the way here I drunkenly decided to do a little photo shoot of Albert Square and enjoy the architecture. The city boomed during the industrial revolution therefore the majority of buildings in the center are large Victorian red bricks. This is how the city gained its nick name as the ‘Warehouse City’.

During the 90’s these spaces were turned into music venues. Whilst most of the original, infamous venues have been turned into luxury flats the influence of the underground 90’s scene has lived on and there will always be a demographic of people wanting to blow of steam to loud sounds and sweaty dancing.

Whether its locals, tourists, students or drag queens, Manchester has a venue for you and it’s hard to ignore the call of cheap booze and good music.


6. Live music

Once in Spinningfields me and Bridget went to ‘Alberts Schloss’ a “Bavarian-style beer cellar for traditional German food and pilsner beers on tap and in bottles.” – Their words not mine.

Looking a lot like a Berlin beer hall mixed with a Revolutions bar, the creative geniuses behind this venue have a created a massive space for a band, center bar, a novelty photo booth. Oh and a button to order Prosecco to your table.

All necessities for any WGW night out.

After seeing off a couple of cocktails, having a little jig to a very impressive live band, ignoring all boys who even try to make eye contact and being generally great we decided to spend about half an hour in the previously mentioned photo booth because you know…

Polaroids are adorbs.

After seeing the outcome of the Polaroid’s it was decided that we were no longer cute and had sipped a few too many fruity mixers.

I’m not entirely sure what the thought process was to us leaving the friendliest bohemian beer palace in Manchester but I think it had something to do with the state of the Polaroids and the fact that words were becoming slurs and groans.


7. Hotel aftermath

If you don’t get back to your hotel and immediately decide to raid the free tea / biscuit selection and have a drunken bubble bath are you even  white girl wasted? Que the chat about how great it is to be friends, how you don’t miss your ex at all and how you really must go on that dream trip to Cancun together next spring break.

Which will totally happen.

And if you don’t have these drunken conversations with your besties then you have simply not had enough to drink.

I mean 99% of the time we’re all stone cold bitches to each other because lets be honest, that’s who we really are.

Bridget your boyfriend doesn’t really exist.


“But seriouslyyyy I love you gurl, you’re soooo great, all our friends are great, we have such a great friendship group. God I miss JB.” (Passes out).

Far too few hours later the sound of my alarm goes off and its time to shower, begrudgingly head to the free breakfast in the hotel restaurant (where I sat at a window table with an amazing view over the square), and drink my body weight in coffee.

Then of course I had to steal a selection of fruit and pastries for the journey home and the blonde girl upstairs in my bed.


8. Back to reality.

Just like that the fun was over!

Thanks for having me again Manchester, I had a blast.

The trains were back to the normal schedule so I could endure the two hour journey full of regret and baked beans, trying not to throw up on Bridget or the small child sat across from me.

Three thoughts repeated themselves in my tired mind

“I can’t wait to get into work”

“Oh crap I have my 1:1 this afternoon”

“Thank you so much Doris, I blame this all on you”



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