...it’s 1870 and as a wealthy member of Manchester’s higher society you are strolling through the streets of Manchester, maybe after a trip to the Theatre Royal on Peter Street, when suddenly a small boy approaches you.
“Buy a newspaper sir?” he pleads.
Looking at him you can see he is barely over 8 years old. He’s small for his age after a lifetime of living in a crowded basement flat in Angel Meadow, rarely getting enough to eat and being largely neglected by his careless parents. Their only words are to tell him to not bother coming home until he has enough money to buy them their drink for the night. It’s coming up to midnight and the anxious look on his face tells you that tonight he has not achieved this…