The Strangest Life I’ve Ever Known – No Fear Or Loathing In Brighton.

Friday, 28th July, 2017.


A perfect time to wake up. Feeling slightly groggy from last night’s “supply sampling”, I have risen with absolute commitment to the weekend. First off though, coffee. Even better, Top Dad coffee!


After the obligatory dropping off of child, filling car with diesel and going back to collect the things we forgot, we are on the road. Luckily, I have “return home” driving duties.

Arrival is complete. We are in a smaller room than last time but the view from the balcony is excellent.

Shame about the weather but we’ll ignore it. We decided to indulge in a little sustainance. Probably the last solids to pass my lips for the next 48 hours. I had steak. Let us just say it was edible. 

I’m thinking of doing some of the Quadrophenia landmarks. It’s been a while. It will probably be weather dependent. I think it’s time to head back to the Amsterdam Hotel bar and enjoy  the transvestite ambience.


Things are moving on nicely. It’s excellently Gay. I do like it here. Perfect people watching.

Saturday, 29th July, 2017.


Last night. It’s very hazy, as you can imagine. After a couple of the Auntie Jan’s margaritas and Porn star martinis, we found ourselves in a very long conversation with some old boy(I remember he told us he was 88), about the movie, Dunkirk. This led on to, pretty much, putting the world to rights, as the powders kicked in. 

That’s him there. Well, half of him. Before you ask, I have absolutely no idea what Carter was doing! Weirdo!

I then, got distracted by a couple sitting near us with a dog. I only remember this because the dog had it’s own instagram account and nearly had more followers than me. Wait. I’ll find a link.
Miss Woofy woof. Ha! Nice dog though. Nice fellas too.
I then discovered, it wasn’t tranny cabaret night. It was karaoke night. I found this out by chance as, as we attracted a women who turned out to be a professional karaoke singer. Is it like being a professional pool hustler? I don’t know. It’s a shame as I was looking forward to cabaret act, Sally Vate. 

Picture of “professional” karaoke-ist?!

So. Full of shit right? Definitely. She chose a song then left.  Thinking about it. She might have been scared. Over a couple more drinks our table started to grow. A hen party had joined us, sporting a collection of the most drunk and drug addled girls I’d come across in a while. My kinda people.
Things, at that point, descended into a blur of margaritas, visits to the cubicles and mad conversations with transvestites. I did discover why the her party girls were so fucked though.

It kinda looks like crack. Lol.

Many, many hours later, we got a couple of hours sleep.


We did actually get up for breakfast, Had a rinse and immediately walked into town. I needed Guinness. Which I promptly got.


We stopped and had a few, in The Blue Man. You have to be impressed by a selection of booze like this.

Both silver and anejo Patron. Yes indeed.


Sitting outside The Mesmerist. We have definitely window shopped and drunk our way through Brighton now. I stopped myself from buying guitars on several occasions. Everyone has their weakness. Especially in this heightened state. Checking my bank, we are currently running at about £200 on drinks. Time for a return to the hotel.


We managed a couple of hours back at the hotel but the bar was closed for a huge marriage reception for a couple of rich old boys. It was an open bar. That much alcohol and men in high heels don’t mix. 

We decided we needed to eat so we got an uber to Cafe Rouge for mussels.

It’s not as good as it used to be. Primarily because they changed the onion soup. They got rid of the giant Gruyere crouton. Disappointing.

Luckily, The Mesmerist is opposite. Hemingway daiquiris, with corona and tequila on the side.

Yeah rjrh ###:(‘$”-/255″

Fuck. Yeah!
Sunday, 30th July, 2017.


Did we sleep? No Fucking chance. On a positive, the list is being consumed at a steady rate. Yet again, we managed to have breakfast which consisted of coffee and toast. 

The day was a bit greyer, and so were we. Lack of sleep and constant abuse was starting to take its toll. Nevertheless, we will soldier on.


I have to say, I felt quite nauseous walking to the lanes but once I’d had my Guinness I perked up and we scampered around a few vintage clothes shops and places that looked interesting.
 Also, the weather had got better, which always helps.


Back at The Mesmerist. I just can’t stay away. We had a little visit from my friend Mare, who was in Brighton on a hen night. Then, I had a bloody Mary which was definitely, in the top five I’ve ever had. I felt total rejuvenation.


I’m a bit vague about the hours, between two and now. We definitely left The Mesmerist but we are now back there. I seem to have taken a few pictures.

I vaguely remember having a pomegranate daiquiri in All Bar One. 

Anyway, this evening, the barman, at The Mesmerist,  just made a bold statement. He says he makes the best bloody Mary in Brighton! I’ve a had a few in my time, so it had to be tested, right?

Due to his lack of Tabasco, he put fresh chilli pepper in it. It was fantastic but I only gave him an 8/10. His head was, obviously, big enough. I also had a few  Hemingway Daiquiris. Just for puctuation.

I have to say, I love it there. I don’t know why. I just do.


Back at the hotel. Just having a chat with some of the diehard locals and the Two guys that run the place. There is no substance on earth that could stop me from sleeping tonight. We booked a full English for the morning. Sustainance for the journey home. 

It’s been a mission. A success. A triumph of human endurance. Less said about some of the grittier details, the better. I’ll try not to think to hard about the retribution my body will dole out next week.

Just time for one last margarita.

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