Lots of beach, big pier, way too many “dodgy lookin’ geezers” and a tens of thousands of proud homosexuals. That was Brighton when we visited on Saturday in the midst of the pride festival. The simpleton who I was affiliated with was duped by an elderly friend of Dorothy (his words), we made our way for a short stay to the centre of the festivities. A festival indeed! Everything was very festive. From the men with their assorted bits hanging out for all to see to the women who, even on second or third glance, didn’t make me entirely sure they were actually women. The fun, the frolics, the bollicks, the thrill of the fairground.


“Big Drop” or something to that effect – Full Set

Moving on from the field of festive folk, I opted to see a bit more of Brighton. It isn’t unlike many other cities with their old buildings and expansive green areas littered with tomatoe-red locals during the summer months. There was an extensive skating area in what appeared to be a childrens park; something which at the time I imagined the youth of Cork would wet their pantaloons if they had.


Graffiti around the skate park – Full Set

Although it seems like a harmless enough place to visit, I’m not sure I’d like to live there. The pier was an attraction, although not as much of an attraction as the 70-something year old cross dressing man perched in a wheelchair on the pier speaking with the voice of a similar aged docker whilst his half smoked cigarette rolled from one side of his mouf to the other. “But I am a lady!”


The inevitable deck chairs pictured with the pier in the background – Full Set


A fitting end?

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