Sadly, no more. And the earth itself groans. (Via Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From, who likewise was put in mind of The Times's song, "Manchester.")
NB even the BBC can't decide if the man's name is (Cambridge-educated) Anthony or (Salford lad) Tony.
Now watch 24 Hour Party People in which Wilson, played by Steve Coogan, meets God on a Manchester rooftop. "It's a pity you didn't sign the Smiths, but you were right about Mick Hucknall: his music's rubbish and he's a ginger." Marvellous.
Oh, and then there's this (via Blood and Treasure):
And you, forgotten, your memories ravaged by all the consternations of two hemispheres, stranded in the Red Cellars of Pali-Kao, without music and without geography, no longer setting out for the hacienda where the roots think of the child and where the wine is finished off with fables from an old almanac. That’s all over. You’ll never see the hacienda. It doesn’t exist.
The hacienda must be built.