Hello, Mr Here.
Miss and I have returned to the big smoke following our 'adventure' in the gay capital of England. There was much debate beforehand as to what can be classified as the 'gay capital' - London, Manchester or Brighton. This was mainly due to Miss, having been there for almost 3 minutes, not having spotted one overtly gay person. However as we were there at the time we decided on Brighton.
We won't bore you with what we did in the day time as this involves watching animal clips (the best kind) on 'You've Been Framed' and seeing England beat France in the rugby (a sore point for Miss who is a celt).
Then it was on to Brighton's premiere nightclub Revenge.
Some things you should know about gay clubs outside of London.
1. The clientelle are much less attractive. This results in there being less opportunity to pull someone who isn't a monster...or someone who is far out of our league and too pissed to know better. It does however have the added bonus of making us feel more attractive and superior. In a club inhabited by men dressed as Fred Kruegar, fat girls with poppers stored between their even fatter tits and a midget Angelina Jolie look-a-like, we were the shit. Not to blow our own trumpet but one girl actually stopped us to take a photo simply because '[you] are the most beautiful people here'. This almost never, ney NEVER happens back home. And just for the record we're not biased because we are not native Londoners.
2. The music is a lot less pretentious. You can feel free to dance around like a complete twat without fear of being scrutinised by some poncey gay in skinny black jeans and one of those Yasser Arafat neck-scarfs. Plus you know all the words so you can have a good sing rather than mumbling along to some cheesy lounge shite because everyone else knows the words and you don't.
3. The choice of narcotics on offer extended to said bottle of poppers between fat girl's tits. One whiff and the gays were seen to flock to her mammaries like a gaggle of honking geese. (Miss would like to point out that Mr was the alpha goose).
4. Drinks were an absolute steal.
5. People still think it's more than appropriate to give hickies after the age of 12. Mr learnt this to his detriment and is still ashamedly sporting a range of polo necks to the office.
6. They are rather nice beaches a stone's throw from the clubs' doorsteps.
Leading on from points 5 and 6 takes us to Mr's adventure for the rest of the night...
Seeing it only right that I pull when in the gay capital of England our friend LG chivalrously intervened as I am pathetic at pulling for myself and still play by the playground rules of 'my mate fancies your mate etc'.
Enter The Giant.
He seemed nice enough. Rather posh, nice hair. Oh and he did seem to be a smoker which always gets me excited. That's about all I can remember, I would tell you more but Miss and LG promptly did one and left me on my own.
Somewhere between them leaving and me finding them again I acquired 3 dark and painful lovebites. I do remember pointing out to him that this was 'quite irritating actually' as I would have to attempt to cover them up for the next week. I am so cool.
I finally made my excuses (I got up and walked off in silence) and ran to find Miss only to announce I needed to throw up. So we quickly gathered our things, ran out to the pier, where I proceeded to expel the total price of £7.20 worth of Red Stripe and tequila.
Somehow, god knows how, LG had gotten hold of The Giant's number and had heard on the rumour mill that he had procured some beers and was down on the beach. The next logical step was for us to join him there and steal as much said booze as possible.
Miss had had enough and stumbled off to get chips. When she returned she found us 'engrossed' in conversation with The Giant's older lesbian (!) sister and her 'girl'friend who introduced herself as 'too lazy to pronounce my own name so call me H'.
Lesson learnt - if you're not willing to let someone rape your neck do not expect to be able to rape their booze supply.
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