It's mostly cheap rentals, except the only landlord is Manchester City Council, and the houses are stacked one on top of the other. Like all the grimy areas of Manchester, they're trying to tart it up and sell it on to the professional classes. Up the road, a large sign proclaims that Lovell are down to build one thousand new homes and luxury apartments right here. It won't matter. They can put in as much Warmsafe as they want, it'll be like smearing lipstick on a pig. And as pigs go, there's none more ugly or angry than Sutpen Court. I leave the Micra in a spot I hope proves safe enough. Head across chipped concrete, past broken glass and takeaway papers which shift along the ground like urban tumbleweed. Look up: Sutpen Court looms overhead, a crumbling monolith. When they finally pull the plug on this place, I'm guessing this block'll be one of the first to fall. The communal entrance doors are propped open with an overturned Kwiksave trolley.
