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Friday, 1 August 2008

I was approached by a lady the other day, who wanted to sponsor me. She had great big wads of cash spilling out of her uber-chic handbag and a hard mean look in her business blue eyes.

I gently suggested that being sponsored made me feel like one of those children who’s parents love them anyway then leave them on the hard shoulder and that her money might be better spent on the desperately trashy and greedy folk who run this esteemed website. They’ll do anything for a wedge of £50’s. I was right, they got on like a house on fire and now she’s sponsoring the ‘Real Brighton’ float at Pride. The theme’s a secret but it won’t be scat oh no, not after that terrible accident with the scrambled eggs, but I digress.

I checked her out, the companies chic and fashionable very Brighton, like the lady herself who I’ve known her for twenty years, let’s call her ‘Jug’ for want of another name and have had many an evenings events with her. Like me she’s reinvented herself successfully time and time again, and with her I went to one of the best parties of my life. We were young, it was the late 80’s- the summer of love, I was dressed in a full length green
net body stocking and she was dressed as a nun, we were deep underground in the ‘hell fire caves’ in High Wickham one of the best venues for a party ever created, dug out by some decadent cult 200 years ago for the sole purpose of drinking, whoreing and doing the opium bump. It’s not unfair to say that we may have imbibed a few substances to assist us in enjoying the evening and it’s not unfair to say that Jug always wanted to imbibe some more. She flashed like sexual lightening, twisted like an erotic eel on poppers and as we ran down the long chalk tunnels shouting ‘boomshanka’ and kissing anyone we met I realised what a lucky man I was to know such a lovely women.

The night fades into the kind of anecdote that can be sued for the telling, so I’ll leave it there. But when you see the REALBrighton float at Pride, give her a wave, she’ll be the one pole dancing on the butler with a gleam in her eye, a profit margin up her sleeve, a tray full of the best Champagne balanced on her head and lovely pert breasts. She knows how to throw a part does Jug, god help you ‘REALBrighton’ and all who sail in you!