Fear and Loathing in West Sussex

I find there is nothing quite like a well earned hang-over for focusing one's thoughts.

This Chap, dear reader, is currently luxuriating with a decent grade 2 eye-twister. This has been developed with a reasonable amount of Cremant, Cru Beajolais and other things of which Nanny would sternly disapprove.

Co-conspirators with whom I am sharing the first weekend of my long absence from the Big-Grey are also leading this Chap desperately astray into non-chappist activites. To whit: attending an establishment of 'acid-house' music, whilst under the influence of said exotics. It is is enough to make one's stout country tweeds feel a bit sweaty.

However, I am sure the cut of one's suit is no barrier to 'reaching for the lasers', and I am certain that by the end of the evening one's brogues will feel a tad heavy.
It does mean spending an evening rammed in with the underwshed and overscented, who no doubt will suffer from chemically induced friendliess. In the name of cross-cultural harmony I look forward to shaking them warmly by the hand, and sharing a cultural cheroot or two.

Guido would be proud.

The downside is that I am in Brighton - which seems to have a surfeit of arcades full of shiny machines, and gangs of Burberry clad ruffians drinking lager.

In 'Hunter S Thompson' style, I intend to keep you posted in gonzo fashion. I wonder If I shall awake tomorrow in a hotel suite with a giant lizard's tail attached.

Mind you it is nice to be beside the seaside......