1 - Biggest Fume in the history of GOT. Definitely something by Ghost
2 - Best banned ex poster. The Jazzman
3 - Best leaving post. Robert Jarvis, I'm sure it was something about being Snidermanned
4 - Best Overall Thread. What are you listening to. I hibernate in there most match days
5 - Best Single Post - Heatmeiser, in the Best Gig thread
"You are standing in the middle of Salford, there is a slight drizzle and a smell of pie in the air. There are several confused looking, beardy types huddled around the entrance to what appears to be an art gallery in front of you.
You can see a leaflet on the floor.
There is an open doorway to your north.
Read leaflet
The damp leaflet appears to be a flyer for tonight's bands, it reads 'Russian Circles & Boris. Tonight at Islington Mills, Salford'
Go north
You enter the doorway and are met by a delightful young lady smiling at you through an asymmetrical fringe. She asks for your surname, stamps your hand and ushers you through into the main room.
You can see your friend Dex grinning at you, swinging a pint of beer in your direction.
Take beer
You grab the beer and take several thirsty gulps.
Looking up you see several hairy japanese people amble on stage. They begin to churn out an hour of slow drone rock with hypnotic psychedelic tones masked by familiar grungey noise. Towards the end of the set the drummer stands up and repeatedly smashes a gong. Your ears start to bleed.
You can see two jailbait girls standing close to your left.
Smell jailbait hair
You move closer to the girls' hair and inhale deeply. Your nostrils fill with the sweet scent of vanilla and dewberry. They notice you standing too close and quickly move away.
Your friend Dex appears again with yet more beer.
Take beer
You grab the beer, spilling most of it over your sleeve as you move quickly toward the front of the venue.
You see three odd looking, scruffy muso types wander on to the stage and assemble approximately 274 effects pedals on the floor.
They eventually begin to play - a wall of feedback hits you in the gut, reverberating against your diaphragm and slapping against your spine.
Move closer
You wander closer. The drummer is centre stage, his manic flailing hypnotic as his bandmates build up stunning soundscapes which explode with post-metal efficiency.
You recognise 'Station' through the blistering noise, the drumming magnificent, leading the - proudly metal - riffs throughout. 'Death Rides a Horse' flies by, a layered beast, complete with guitar tapping.
You stagger out into the mancunian rain, your ears buzzing loudly as you slump into the passenger seat of a VW Golf belonging to someone you half recognise. They turn to you and simply say "That was f*cking brilliant."
Fall asleep"
