The Manchester Mal

In the home of the beautiful game you're about to turn Moulin Rouge. A short trundle for wheel-based luggage from Piccadilly Station and you're at the Mal - somewhere in the mists between Paris and the 24-hour party city. You cross the chessboard reception and suddenly you're a king for the knight. It's your move.

To the bar or brasserie? To bed or to the spa? The red devil in you appears - what the hell, do it all. Pourquoi? Asks the Parisian in you - Because you can can.