'Like the last days of the Roman Empire': What it was like to party at the Kitchen, Hulme's notorious after-hours acid house club

If you liked to stay out late in 1980s Manchester, you didn't have that many options.

Under the watchful eye of 'God's Cop' - police chief James Anderton - the city's nightclubs were operating under a strict 2am curfew.

But a couple of miles to the south of the city centre, among the vast, lawless, concrete blocks of Hulme Crescents, an infamous after-hours club was following its own rules.

Taking its lead from underground 'Blues' parties thrown by Manchester's West Indian community, the Kitchen was a ramshackle squat-cum-club where anything went.

READ MORE: Ravers, crusties, all night parties: What it was like to live in a squat in Hulme Crescents

To get there you followed the graffiti up five flights of stairs to the top floor of Charles Barry Crescent where two four-bed flats had been knocked together into one dark and dingy space.

Inside, safe from the prying eyes of Greater Manchester Police, ravers, crusties, students, punks, gangsters, artists, musicians and anyone else who didn't feel like going to bed, came together for hedonistic parties that often lasted all weekend.

The Jam MCs, Chris Jam and Tomlyn, were the closest thing to the Kitchen had to resident DJs.

The pair began putting on nights there in late 1986, a few months after Chris, then working as a carrier bag salesman, moved to Manchester from London.

Chris said: "I was at the Garage when someone told me about the Kitchen.

"I walked into one of the bullrings at the Crescents and it was like a scene from Mad Max.

"There were travellers' vans on the grass with smoke coming out of them, stray dogs walking around.

"I thought 'what is this place?'

"They took us up to this flat, it was about 3am, and there were all these strange people there.

"We just