Bizarre Behaviour at Brighton Pride Festival

"Brighton is still very gay and full of balls."

Samuel Rogers, English poet, 1763 – 1855

Last weekend I visited some friends in Brighton. Got a coach down with some friends. Stopped off in London. Saw the guards marching outside Buckingham Palace. Big crowds.

An hour's train journey got us to Brighton, where I had a slice of this INCREDIBLE cake made by Gin Stephens. 

I'm not normally a cake person, but goddamn. It was good. But then, she is a pro. Check out her business, Ginny's Delights. 

The weekend we went down fell on the Brighton and Hove Pride festival, a celebration of diversity and general gayness. We went for a butchers.

I strolled through the rammed streets with the gang. It's vastly different to Manchester- even when the Rainy City has an event on. People drink on Brighton's streets everywhere- something you won't get away with for five minutes in Manchester. I mooched around sipping from a bottle of Singleton malt whisky for a large part of the day. I also drank something turquoise that tasted like Refreshers sweets, straight off a seafront stall ran by a random woman. Incredible. We hid drinks in pockets and bags. Bottles- some whole, some smashed- were left all over the pavements- day and night. Despite the mess, though, there was no trouble whatsoever. The only violence I encountered was when a cheeky redhead girl did this to me: 

Okay, I let her.

Also, I took this girl up on her offer:

I got a mouthful of this woman's juicy cherry pie:

I got molested by a fat woman in a portable toilet (okay, I let her too), and found what could be the only bar in Brighton playing house music. Check out the terrace party!

Atmos in this particular beer garden: Excellent.

When I strayed back inside the bar I found none other than Dead or Alive front-man Pete Burns eating a burger and salad, sat with someone who looked like a member of The Legion of Doom. I told him I was a writer from Manchester. I showed him my card. He tapped on the table without looking at me. “Yeah, just put it there,” he said, still scooping in lettuce. A girl in our group gave him an earful.

Seriously, Pete. I said I was a WRITER. What did you think I was going to do? If you don't want to be bothered by the public, don't go to a (presumably gay) bar in the middle of Brighton Pride with your hair done in bright gold dreadlocks. YOU'RE A GRADE-A BELLEND. But thanks for reading.

We spilled back onto the street, where the music was blasting out of another bar. Ironically, there was no escaping Pete Burns.

We were only searched in the last bar of the night, where I managed to hide the Singleton around the side of the building. I was NOT losing half a bottle of quality single malt!

Fell asleep on the coach on the way back. This is what happened.

Brightonians are the friendliest, most-chilled-out crowd in the UK. I made some brilliant friends, had a fun time and I have no complaints about the weather either. I'll be making a return journey to the East Sussex party town soon. Samuel Rogers' epitomization was never more accurate than of the weekend of 13^th August.