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Passing Bramall Lane, the only part of Sheffield flat enough it feels like Manchester, you are forced to suck in a gulp of air and exhale a trite aphorism to the effect of ‘oooh, it’s grim up north’. For, apart from the Stalinist concrete football stadium dominating the landscape, there is only a decrepit mixture of boarded up houses, defunct pubs, pie and chip shops, burnt out cars, feral whippets and the starving children of redundant miners playing with cast-off cutlery and drinking Henderson’s relish from broken bottles.
And bang in the middle of Scargill’s wet dream is Tilley’s Books, and, Nick Clegg an exception, perhaps the only Dutch speaking businessman in South Yorkshire. Tilley’s is, by any standard, the best shop in Sheffield. They only sell Manly things, i.e. old porn mags and football programs. After a few hours perusal, being the blokey blokes we are, we left with these in tow.