This is the kind of pub where you walk through the doors expecting it to be early 2000's, a smoke filled, fascinating piece of local legend and that is exactly what it is, bar the smoke.
Dimly lit rooms, fairy lights dotted around to moderate modernism, a free table is always hard to find in this little gem, tonight is no different.
It's an eclectic mix of young and old, hipster and local, all coming together to enjoy a weekday pint or ten - the prices are something not to be sniffed at - in a time where a good pint can set you back up for £5 in Manchester, with an incredible selection of local ales, beers, stouts, all circling the £2-3 mark; it is easy to see why this place is often filled to the rafters.

Alas, I didn't come here to play dominos or darts with the husky local men tonight, I'm here to meet a friend. An unexpected friend.
I'm not one who strikes up new friendships so easily, with a somewhat garbled past, I often find it difficult to take leaps of faith into the unknown where things like trust and love are paramount but this man seems to have broken through that, because he makes it remarkably easy to just be, me.
He's a man with no airs and graces, what you see is what you get, and I find that refreshing.
Given he a man of politics, that seems a little unexpected.

For the time I have known him, I have never seen the snazzy, jazzy PR bullshit people talk about, for me, he's always just been Simon.
From the local MP who came down to the opening of my little bakery, to the man who supported me through it's collapse and encouraged me to plough on to come out the other side.
When he says he is a supporter of local business, there is no denying that. I see his face pop up in local press frequently grinning with arms around entrepreneurs trying to make it great in this town of ours, often donning the light blue tie, which I'm surprised not to see make an appearance this evening.

It has always been something of a fascination to me, the blue tie, worn by a Labour man, it wasn't until I attended an MP's charity dinner that I realised just how blue you can be, whilst being Labour at heart - they call it Blue Labour, and it's severely lacking in the plethora of political standings for this General Election!

No tie tonight. Casual. The locals are glad to see him, engaging him in conversation, giving their best wishes for his hopes of becoming MP once again.

I read these stories of sleaze, of scandal and it's all so.... Politics.
It is what our society has become obsessed with, we hone in for a story of downfall and disgrace rather than celebrate the every day good, the positive steps people take. It's more exciting and more cathartic to sit back and watch someone else fall apart and criticise from behind our newspapers on a Sunday morning, feeling a little better about our own lives as we comment on somebody elses.
Especially when that someone else is the local MP.

I grow weary of reading the things people write about Simon, and a little amused at his incessant fanning of the flames, because say what you like about this man, he never shies away from the shit-storm, he sails straight through it, sails billowing until the waters calm.

I think that is why I admire him, underneath the stories of sexting, expenses and the latest Labour farse and Corbynite attack, he is a man of integrity and decency and heart that belongs to Rochdale.

The day before the so called sexting scandal broke in the national press, Simon was with me, at the bakery, making soup.
So much bloody soup.
The floods of boxing day 2015 had decimated parts of the beautiful village of Littleborough, so we made soup.
He helped me deliver said soups to the local Conservative Club which had become a hub of community support for those in need. Despite facing impending doom by way of The Sun launching its article about his misdeeds, he got on with the job in hand, helping his community.
Talking to local businesses, local families, seeing how he could help, asking what they needed in order to recover quickly and effectively.

I hide away in my little house if someone says something horrible on Twitter, he just fights fire with fire. Isn't that what you want from an MP?
Someone who is innately human, with quite obvious vulnerabilities but with the capacity to override them and strive for the greater good?

I have been through periods of absolute hell in my life, and it's the kind of hell that Simon has battled publicly and fought ferociously.
Rochdale is tarnished with the grooming scandal that many of us watched play out on BBC1 this week and whilst we are all sat back in horror and awe of a society and a system that does not listen when it should, does not take action as it should, does not listen to the cries of those who cry loudest but are poorest; Labour are busy shoeing in a man who did nothing about it.

Tony Lloyd, a man of Manchester, not Rochdale.
His only passionate affiliation with this town is his lack of action. His lack of interest. His lack of follow through.
Where was this avid supporter of all things Rochdale when the town actually needed him? Why will he behave any differently now?
If a man in such a position of power does nothing with it, what is the point in aligning him to such a position as MP?

Simon Danczuk has ventured into the grey areas of politics and policing where not many dared to go. Outing monsterous truths, regardless of the concequences, politics aside, he did what he knew was right.
I would rather have a man who votes and acts with integrity than policy.
The fact of the matter is, this man can do both.

This is a man who won an astounding majority for Labour in 2015, pipping UKIP to the post with a whopping 20,961 votes, so there is no doubt the support for this man, not necessarily the party, is there.
A man who voted for against reducing housing benefits, against a raise in VAT, for equal gay rights, rights for same sex couples to marry, for public funds to spent on providing more jobs for young people.

It's all starting to sound a little like the "I heart Simon" club but thats not the point of this story. I have been writing a lot this week about the faces in Littleborough, in Manchester. The ones we know, the ones we don't.

I wrote a piece about a homeless lady I had gotten to know, her name is Becky. I have spent my week trying to help this woman and address what she needs - and I knew the person to ask was Simon.
I messaged him on Sunday and had a meeting set up for Monday with office.
I told him of this womans plight and the almost immediate response I got back was "What can I do to help?"

Case and point.
Rochdale's Strong Voice.