A brilliant video. A surprisingly stirring video for me. Full of memory and inspiration and one that I highly recommend you watch. It's for a purpose. Fighting cancer, our modern day epidemic. And I guarantee the man in question got to you in some way. It's near impossible that he didn't. I challenge you to prove me wrong.

In it are the voices and the faces of a North that I have loved and fought with deeply. A hard place, a deep place, a legendary place smack in the middle of England on the storied streets of Manchester. Home of the mighty Mancunian. One of the single greatest influences upon my young self. That town, that place, those people, their voices, them words and that speech that slips out excitedly when I've been drinking, or in small moments of joy. The faded images of memory taken by the camera mind of a young struggling boy, that come rushing back when I hear those Northern tones. The place where I sweated out a living on 90 quid a week, feeding three souls while studying the sweet possible in a stroke of pigment and the floating words of the poets. Where I began to write to find what was hidden in the mind. Where I drank pints and sang songs in run down pubs stumbling home on occasion. The home where I first lived married bundled into a broken factory cottage, where a special night out was a Friday at the chippy spread out on the floor. Where I stared out at fields, and wandered tight paved streets, racing for trains and trudging through rain. Where my children were born and took their first tentative steps, speaking like Northerners ''ey-up dad!". Where I learned things that should always be remembered, hoping that they will always be remembered by me. Manchester. And it's surroundings. Music. Art. Hard. Light. Deep. Brick. Brain. Brawn. Love. Pain. Impossible. Possible. Life.

These are the voices and accents of my youth talking about a man who helped bring us some of the greatest sounds that still spin on vinyl, an endless trove of musical influence, singing and clanging of lives lived hard, of lives lived determined, of excess, of regret, of dreams tougher than factory smoke, of Manchester, it's fight, it's heart, it's reach and it's greatest cheerleader, Mr. Tony Wilson.

So listen to this poem by Mike Garry set to music by Joe Duddell of the great Mancunian bands New Order and Elbow about the late great Mr Wilson. It's on sale for charity, raising money to fight cancer with Christie's Hospital, The Manchester hospital where Tony himself died and who treat upwards of 44,000 cases of cancer a year. It's important stuff. Entertaining and purposeful. So lay down a few quid/dollars/euro/pesos.

And it's a cracking great track!

And here's Mr. Mike Garry in the flesh to tell you why God Is A Manc...

Ed note: I was originally under the impression that Peter Jobson of the great Mancunian band I Am Kloot was the composer but it was actually Joe Duddell of the equally great and equally Mancunian bands New Order and Elbow. Peter and I Am Kloot are also involved in this great track.