Anger turned David Nolan into a crime fiction author.
Everything was too much, and storming around the house in a huff wasn’t helping. He needed to get it out.
One day, he sat down at his laptop and let his white-hot rage spray over the screen like a scalding shower.
Fury guided his fingertips as they crashed across keyboard; every word its own powerful release of emotion.
But when he finally stopped typing, David realised something. He had a story in front of him.
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Of course, there was a very real reason why he was so angry in the first instance.
David had been spending every waking hour researching a fact-based book about the scale and breadth of abuse in Britain – as well the connection to media, politics and power.
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It was a topic that had cast a long shadow over his life.
David was one of many abused at St Ambrose school in Altrincham during the seventies – with teacher Alan Morris found guilty of 19 sex assaults carried out against 10 boys.
After initially going to the police, David decided to withdraw his evidence to report on the case in his capacity as a journalist.
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David Nolan has become the chief architect of Manc Noir fiction
As an investigation peeled back the layers, it became clear that the abuse involved numerous individuals and spanned decades – becoming the biggest of its kind Greater Manchester Police had ever seen.
David braved a journey into his troubling past to interview fellow victims, families, detectives involved in the case; building a huge amount of material that included a book (Tell The Truth And Shame The Devil) and a documentary for Radio 4 (The Abuse Trial).
And it isn’t over, either. Almost 40 years on, victims are still coming forward.
“Ex-pupils still talk to me about it now,” says David.
“I’m still getting calls and emails from them even today – because they want someone to talk to about what happened to them.”
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David’s work on the St Ambrose case led to him being commissioned for a huge project – all-encompassing book titled Abuse of Power that would reach further and delve deeper into abuse cases and their connections to the wider world.
But suddenly he was ordered to stop.
“‘Actually, here’s some money to piss off and not write it,’” David paraphrases his would-be publishers, who’d apparently had an abrupt change of heart.
With that, Abuse of Power was shelved.
Embittered and incensed at the injustice of it all, David decided to channel the anger into his writing.
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What came out was Black Moss – David’s debut novel.
The dark, frightening pages were marketed as fiction. But in reality, much of it was fact.
The Mermaid’s Pool follows David’s debut fiction book Black Moss
“With Black Moss, I realised I could say all the things I wanted to say, but just pretend it’s a rip-roaring crime thriller,” David explains.
“It was a way for me to let out my anger and tell a story based on truth.”
This was a big change for David – who’d previously regarded fiction writing to be “cheating.”
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He’d spent his entire working life as a reporter, after all – where he’d been taught to focus on facts and tell things as they were.
His career had been a thrilling one, too; with David’s rise up the ladder coinciding with the moment that Manchester was fast becoming centre of the world.
Everything was happening here between the eighties and nineties: The Strangeways Riots; Madchester; The IRA Bomb; Mosside gang fights.
In David’s words, it was a “ridiculous” time to be a journalist, and his colourful experiences on the beat – and chapters of his dark past – have found their way into works of fiction he never could have imagined himself writing when he was a fledgling reporter in Altrincham.
But today, he is flying the flag for a brand new local crime genre: Manc Noir.
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Black Moss was perhaps the first ever book to be given the Manc Noir label; telling the story of a young boy killed by the eponymous reservoir in Saddleworth whilst everyone else was distracted by the inmates on the roof of Strangeways Prison.
The novel received rave reviews – and it convinced David to write another story in the same universe.
It already had a concept; titled The Mermaid’s Pool after the peculiar moor-top body of water hidden in the shadow of Kinder Scout.
But to get The Mermaid’s Pool out onto the page, David had to remember what had turned him into an author in the first instance.
“With Black Moss, I didn’t set out to write a novel – it was an accident,” David explains.
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“This time, with TheMermaid’s Pool, it was intentional. But I had to think: ‘How did I do it last time?’
“I remembered it was because I was angry. So, I thought: ‘What am I angry about, right now?’”
“I was angry at the rise of the far-right; the murder of Jo Cox, and the guy who planned machete attack on another MP.
“I was angry about my wife having breast cancer – sat in the Christie (hospital) feeling like a spare part and wanting to say to the doctors ‘take it from her and give it to me’.
“I was angry about the Moors being on fire because of some divvy with a portable BBQ.”
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It all served as inspiration. Machete-wielding neo-nazis, heartbreaking tragedy, ferocious blazes. Everything that stirred rage in David made it into the book.
“Some people like to have a few drinks before they write, others like to go for a run.
“For me, it’s getting angry.”
David’s novel lends its title from the body of water on Kinder Scout / Wikimedia Commons
Emotion got the text flowing, but again, much of The Mermaid’s Pool is rooted in reality.
The novel’s ‘thank you’ list reads like a who’s-who of anyone and everyone in Greater Manchester – from ex-detectives and the fire brigade to ecstasy-takers and councillors.
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David even contacted Kinder Mountain Rescue Team to discuss the logistics of manoeuvring a dead body from the moorland.
They helped him out, too – realising he was a meticulous author rather than a murderer.
But as real as the book feels, there’s also some myth in there.
“The Mermaid’s Pool itself has a legend around it – which says there’s a mermaid that lives within it,” David explains.
“Apparently, if you climb up on Easter eve, you can call out to her.
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“If she likes you, she’ll give you eternal life. If she doesn’t, she’ll drag you down and drown you.”
David said he’s never had to look too far from home for this kind of inspiration.
Manchester might have been depicted in predictable ways on television in the recent past, but David says there’s far more in its makeup than many might have recognised.
A closer look reveals that Manchester has the ideal balance of pure beauty and unsettling strangeness to function as an optimum canvas for crime fiction.
“Manchester is so much more than Cold Feet or Shameless,” David declares.
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“It’s a city, it’s canals, it’s posh, it’s poor, it’s multicultural, it’s Catholic, it’s Irish, it’s Jewish.
“Then you’ve got the hills all around; bleak and windy and horrible. It’s a landscape that’s amazing, foreboding and frightening all at the same time.
David pauses for a second and lets out an incredulous gasp.
“Honestly… why would you want to write about anywhere else?!”
The Mermaid’s Pool is out now. The book is available to order here.
Feature
A masterclass in The Art of Loving: Olivia Dean brings two unforgettable nights to Co-op Live
Emily Johnson
Olivia Dean took over Co-op Live for not one, but two nights this weekend – and what she delivered felt like a full-circle celebration of The Art of Loving, her incredible sophomore album.
From the moment Olivia’s silhouette appeared behind the curtain on night two, opening with the album’s title track, it was clear this evening was going to be special.
With a sea of polka dots on arrival, it’s evident that the 27-year-old already has great influence when it comes to style with her fans, and you could spot anyone who was attending Olivia Dean around Manchester city centre immediately.
Despite performing to a crowd of over 20,000 people, the performance felt incredibly intimate, with interactions with the crowd through the evening, even pointing out a fan’s banner saying they had been a fan of Olivia since 2019, which she was humbly taken aback by.
Her voice carried effortlessly around the arena, somehow still managing to feel soft and personal, like she was singing directly to you.
No Dean show would be complete without her incredible outfits either, and last night we were truly spoilt, with two outfit changes throughout the evening, which split the night into three chapters.
Initially appearing in a black sequin number, before reappearing in the middle of the crowd in an all-white outfit, evocative of an angel – a moment that felt intimate even in a room that size.
Later, with disco balls lowered and the energy lifted, she returned in another glitzy look for the more upbeat tracks, including a crowd-pleasing cover of ‘Move On Up’. With her band behind her, the sound filled the arena beautifully.
Everyone was on their feet having a good time, but no one was having as much fun as the woman herself, Olivia Dean.
And that’s the thing with Miss Dean, no one at her gigs is having half as much fun as she is. She’s always smiling, always glowing.
Put simply, she’s a proper ray of sunshine on stage. Towards the end of the show, Olivia looked up at the crowd and stated, “It’s magic in here tonight, Manchester”, and we all believed her.
Looking around at the crowd, arms around each other, best friends, couples – it was hard not to feel the magic too.
Highlights included ‘UFO’ with a sea of lights, which in the moment gave the whole room goosebumps, and of course, the confetti cannon, which was the grand finale to an incredible evening.
Yungblud channels a bit of magic that’d make Ozzy proud on huge headline night in Manchester
Lonnie Bowes
A darkened arena erupts into life as Yungblud storms the AO Arena main stage for his biggest Manchester show to date.
He flickers across the giant screens, projected against a curtain that stretches the full width of the AO Arena. Then that unmistakable Doncaster drawl cuts through the noise, urging the audience to make some noise (even more of it), and they oblige – gladly.
When the lights come up, a barrage of lights flickers, pyrotechnics explode, and chaos ensues. Manchester crowds are no strangers to Yungblud; he’s a livewire performer with seemingly endless energy, a proclivity for raw emotion, and a fiercely loyal fanbase: the self-proclaimed ‘Black Hearts Club’.
Dressed in a grungy pair of Chrome Hearts leather trousers, a leopard-print waistcoat and sunglasses so thick he could look directly at the sun with no issues, he tears straight into the opening track (Hello Heaven, Hello) with barely a second to breathe.
He then pauses – hands extended to the crowd, a cheeky grin – and bang: confetti fills the room.
If previous Manchester shows hinted at his stamina, this one confirms it. The scale may be bigger, but the intensity hasn’t dipped. The floor quickly becomes a sea of movement, with mosh pits swelling and collapsing in waves, sending bodies ricocheting across the arena.
It’s the kind of gig where you’re never quite safe from getting drenched either – water cups are less for drinking and more for launching, with sprays arcing out over the front rows like some kind of punk rock baptism of fire. So many flames.
The audience was on the ball; at one point, Yungblud’s comb was hurled into the crowd. Showgoers in the area tussled over the item for a minute before returning to the mayhem unfolding around them.
Part conductor, part chaos agent, part mic-wielding cowboy, he commands the room with ease. The mic stand, placed in front of him between each song by the production team, is repeatedly cast to the back of the stage, and he flails the mic above his head on more than one occasion – always catching it again before it can strike anyone else. It’s reckless, but never careless.
Because beneath the sweat and noise, there’s something more deliberate at play. His speeches on identity, equality, belonging and mental health feel less like interludes and more like the backbone of the entire night.
This isn’t just performance: it’s a space he’s actively shaping, one where thousands feel seen. Towards the back end of the set, he invites the whole crowd to look left and right and tell each other how much they f***ing love one another.
Tracks like ‘Loner’, ‘Lowlife’ and ‘Zombie’ land with particular weight, their messages amplified by a crowd that knows every word. At one point, the lights swing out over the audience, and for a moment the focus shifts – not just to the performer, but to the community he’s built.
With a touching tribute to the late, great Ozzy Osbourne, Yungblud is visibly emotional, with tears in his eyes for his dearly departed friend. And if the ringing in my ears is anything to go by, I’m pretty sure Ozzy heard it and was looking down with pride.
If you haven’t guessed by now, Yungblud knows how to command a room, but things definitely took a turn when he invited a member of the crowd on stage.
Holding a poster that read something along the lines of “I can play guitar”, she was brought up and proceeded to absolutely bring the house down, performing alongside him for a song. Daisy, hats off – you absolutely SMASHED it.
Congratulations are in order as well to the happy couple who got engaged at the gig. We really hope your first dance is to a Yungblud track.
Even in a venue of this size, he moves like he’s trying to outpace it; sprinting, leaping, barely standing still long enough to catch a breath. It’s hard not to feel like this is still just a stepping stone. Because if he can command a room like this with such force, it’s not a stretch to imagine Yungblud scaling even bigger stages before long.
Loud, relentless and emotionally charged, this wasn’t just a gig, it was a statement – a place to escape the struggles of day-to-day life and bolster an ever-growing community built on all the right things: acceptance, harmony, and just a little bit of chaos. In short, he’s welcome back anytime.