Duke Of York — Restaurant in Salford

First went in there in March 2013 when working on my Manchester novel PSYCHOPATH WEEK (renamed MANCHESTER X). Here's an extract:

"The Duke of York is opposite, advertising the cheapest beer in Eccles. Can’t go wrong for one pound thirty. The locals sometimes call it the Duke of Love. About a dozen drinkers are scattered about the shop. A very blonde barmaid is pouring my drink. She’s pretty, no doubt about that, with a touch of sadness in her eyes, a broad grin that seems keen to annihilate that first impression, and ivory teeth that are rare in Britain. Mid-twenties, I reckon, and a tough and chequered biography. Varied private life, too. It always shows, no matter how hard they try to disguise it. I read their lives like a book in capital letters. Flags everywhere. Union Jack. George Cross. On the telly a man is about to chop a pineapple in half which is sitting on top of a startled woman’s head. With a Japanese sword. Hard piano chimes from the jukebox. It’s the theme song from True Romance. Best Cracker episode there ever was, with a cute Emily Joyce as a young serial killer. What’s the song called again? Is it What I feel? Cracker. Unmatched. Shot in Manchester, 1995. A classic. No one in the pub feels like me. Not even Linzi behind the bar.

Zelinda flushed the toilet in the Duke of York when the Cracker song started. She held her breath for a second and smiled. Women of her age in England were calibrated to that tune. An old couple at the bar, her in a white overcoat, him in Barbour, oozing style. Apart from a young man, nobody is sitting at a table. He has chosen the one next to the entrance and right now he’s moving his lips to the lyrics of the song. In the film, the song came from a tape recording, played while Janice tortured her male victims with electroshocks. All for the sake of Fitz, the drinking, smoking, adipose, gambling genius of a profiler, played by Robbie Coltrane. Ron caught the futile glimpse of a woman’s silhouette wearing a magenta trouser suit, flat black trainers, no high heels for a change. As Zelinda vanished among the hubbub on Church Street, Ron surrendered to the last keys of his favourite melody. Sleep, beer and the unique thrill of anticipation had pushed him towards the brink of exhaustion. Tipsy, leaden legs, heavy head, held together by a staggering frame, he floated into the enveloping darkness of the Ascott Hotel.

Dusty Springfield. Of course. Too much alcohol, the painful throes of waking up brutally drive home the message. I close my eyes and count to ten."

Visited the Duke of York three weeks ago. Pint of Boddie's in excellent shape, 1.80 (MON-THU). Very friendly staff. Always on my map...

A traditional. Public house. With Eccles. Traditional public house . needs to be refurbished. Plenty of scope. But in a cosmopolitan. Way. Beer is at a affordable. Price. Also a good selection. Of people....

Love the new refurb throughout the whole of the pub! Brand new toilets have been put in place as well to top it of such lovely staff and amazing choices of alcohol! Would highly recommend! Such a...