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a fine person who was born in or currently resides in the most majestic city of manchester.

unfortunately, they live not 40 miles away from the utter b-st-rd sc-m of liverpool but in their brilliance, continue to prosper as the capital of the north, even if the scousers come up the east lancs to nick more tyres.
“yeah i’m mancunian you scouse c-nt? eh!!! where you goin? that’s right you f-cker, run away!”
people from the city of manchester (in england).
uhm… can’t think of an example. just (generally) friendly people you might meet on a train or plane somewhere, or, of course, in manchester.
1) somebody from manchester. england’s 6th largest city

2) somebody who constantly talks about manchester. they make an effort to tell you that they are (a)a mancunian and (b)from manchester, every opportunity they get. these people tend to refrain from “nose blowing”.

a typical mancunian / stranger exchange:
mancunian: h-llo
stranger: h-llo
mancunian: i’m a mancunian!
stranger: what does that word mean?
mancunian: you know, i’m a manc, from manchester (does weird creepy shoulder dance)
stranger: so what?
mancunian: have you ever been to manchester, it’s amazing, it’s the capital of england.
stranger: yes, its wonderful i’m sure, goodbye
mancunian: so do you want a big issue or not?

mancunians don’t blow their noses
uk: a person from manchester.

manchester is a city in the north of england. originally a roman settlement the romans wisely decided to leave it were it was and for hundreds of years it stayed dormant until it erupted like a festering boil during the industrial revolution.

the mancunian women live on council estates and give birth to between 4-12 young during a lifetime of 40-50 years when they die off from obecity, excessive smoking and atmospheric pollution.
the young are allowed to run free as soon as they learn to walk at an age of 2-3 weeks and spend most of their time stealing, vandalising and spray painting and generally breaking everything in sight.
despite the occasional temporary appearance of a mancunian male in these nests, the young are often violent unpredictable creatures and a cattle prod is needed for proper guidance.
on trying to get a female to control its offspring she makes the usual cry off ‘eeesgotnoooowaretooogoww!’ and will attempt repeatedly to cross a pair of underdeveloped stubby little arms over her m-ssive pair of overused jugs.
suggesting perhaps occasionally sending him/her into school for the day elicits a similar response.
the governments efforts to build schools, colleges, libraries, leisure centres, parks, community centres, crèches in the area and having the biggest football ground in the country still do not help the situation as the females never move far from their daytime soapy television sets to learn of these things.
if the young see such a structure they naturally -ssume it has been put there for spray painting and have little more to do with it once it is completely coated in brightly colored paint exept perhaps to scent mark it by defecating or urinating on it.
the females when not watching daytime soaps enjoy going to shopping centres and walking into people, this pastime is often enhaced by the use of shopping trollies or specially sharpened prams. sometimes they may take a break from this to go shoplifting or feed the numerous little ones at a ‘mc’donalds’.

the mancunian male lives on lager vouchers and spend their day grouped together in a watering hole called ‘the pub’ drinking boddingtons a yellow liquid that may be the cause of a nervous affliction called the bodingtons twitch if drunk in sufficient quant-ties.
for sport they wait for strangers to enter the pub and play a game called ‘northern hospitality’
stage one involves getting the stranger to answer a lot of questions and buy them all bodingtons in vast quant-ties.
stage two: involves turning the back on the person and completely ignoring them except for chattering on like women do in the rest of the country and referring occaisionally to the now financially challenged stranger in the third person. this behaviour is common in most pubs in manchester and quite well doc-mented. the game is judged lost if the stranger manages to leave the pub with any money.
about 11.00pm they then go of to reproduce or sleep over at ‘mams’, failing that they will happily curl up in a ditch or under a sofa on a nest of empty beer cans, cider bottles, old newspaper and carrier bags till the pubs open again.

fortunately manchester is easy to spot from a distance as it lies in a bowl shape depression and from a distance the shimmering yellow layer of smog and smoke that builds up in this bowl due to gravity makes it easy to see and avoid.

mancunians worship ‘manchester united’ and on feast day the city comes to a halt for ceremonial fighting, prayer and ritual use of boddingtons beer.

dress: track suits and stuff from thrift shops. they also tend to try and copy american fashion trends but do this very badly.

music: anything that they can buy in 4:4 time with no melody.

from a six year study based in stretford, manchester uk.
look a mancunian, lets get the h-ll out of here quick.
someone who comes from the sh-thole of manchester. the regular mancunian thinks manchester is the best place in the world, despite the fact that it’s the number 1 city in gun crimes in all uk (hence ‘gunchester’) and 90% of the city’s inhabitants are living off the dole. they like to blame neighbors from liverpool for the fact that their hubcaps disappear in the night, but they’ll never admit that the place is actually crawling with scallies. and don’t get me started on the accent. they can’t say the ‘r’ in the middle or in the end of any word if their lives depended on it. they also can’t tell the difference between ‘your’, ‘you’re’ and ‘you’, so they just say the abominable ‘yer’ instead of any of the aforementioned.

also, most mancunians are hostile towards people for no reason and like to brag about their fighting skills, despite the fact they have none. they’re also narrow-minded, elitist, xenophobic -rs-holes, in stark contrast to the rest of england, which is probably the reason why visitors never go there or even think manchester is in london.
police officer: ‘so, you lost your hubcap eh?’
mancunian: ‘yea right, must have been a scouser yer know’
police officer: ‘hey, isn’t that your hubcap in the hands of that bloke with the man city jersey?’
mancunian: ‘bl–dy h-ll yea it is! must be a scouser in disguise, there’s no criminals in manchester!’