What Happens on West Street Part 3: Drugs, Strip Clubs and… Toilet Roll?

Living in the centre of Brighton, there’s never a dull moment. Especially if your neighbours are Pryzm, Wetherspoons, Revolution, Yates and a number of questionable kebab joints. Here’s all the weird shit I saw on my doorstep this week!

Someone Promoting a Strip Club

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If you’ve ever been to a major city you know all about club promoters. They stand in the middle of the street asking you to come in to their rundown club in exchange for ‘2 for 1 drinks’. The reality is that if a club is decent, it speaks for itself and doesn’t need promoting. Last week, I saw something a bit different. A girl was promoting a nearby strip club with the attractive proposition of free entry. Whatever, girl’s gotta make a living. What was cringe AF however, was the reactions of the 40-year-old men she was approaching. “Oi Dave, they’ve got free entry to the strip club! Nice one, girl! Will you be working there? šŸ˜‰ šŸ˜‰ šŸ˜‰ ” *lots of nudging their mates and winking*. VOM.

Lots of Non-Discreet Drug Deals

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Pretty much every time I leave my house I see someone selling drugs. What cracks me up (no pun intended) is how people on West Street don’t even bother to act discreet.

Those that do try to hide the fact they’re shifting research chemicals to sixth form students look so suspicious that it’s immediately obvious what they’re up to. Why is that man stood over by the bins with two teenagers? Why do they keep looking shiftily over their shoulders? Definitely doesn’t look like they’re selling drugs though…

A Penis Holding Hands with a Dominatrix… at 2pm

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This one doesn’t really need an explanation, mainly because I will never understand why a man dressed as an inflatable dick was walking through the centre of town holding hands with his leather-clad partner (complete with thigh-high stiletto boots) in what was quite literally the middle of the day.

An Emo Hen Party

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If I had a quid for every time I saw a hen or stag party outside my window I’d have enough money to leave this gaff for good. They’re easy to spot, as they usually wear pink, one of them has a veil, and there’s normally a lot of screaming and penis paraphernalia. Last weekend I saw a hen party with a difference. Instead of the usual pink-penis-prosecco ensemble they were all dressed in black, all had piercings and tattoos and all had that kind of Kat Von D vibe that I used to aspire to (and still kind of dig). As I watched them I couldn’t help wondering how many times they were gunna hear the words “woah boys, watch out for the Corpse Bride he he he he”. Most likely from Craig and the lads from Coventry who will later get kicked out of Pryzm for swilling a girl who didn’t want to dance with them to Despacito.

Someone Wearing Neon Nights and Ugg Boots

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Is the title of this blog ‘What Happened in 2008’? I haven’t seen such a bold statement since I was in year 7 and religiously wore my (fake) pink Uggs with my (neon) pink tights and a (New Look) stripey hoodie. They say fashion goes in circles, and while this is fine for 90s sportswear, flares and cowboy boots, I really hope the neon and Ugg combination isn’t making a comeback.

Everyone Avoiding Me Because I Was Carrying a Bag of Toilet Roll

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Usually when I walk to my house on a Saturday evening a couple of men will whistle at me as though this will distract me from the smell of lager and BO. However, last Saturday I walked down the street carrying a bag of toilet roll and I had shocking results. Like the parting of the red sea, crowds of promoters, fuckboys and hen parties alike all moved out the way, staring at me like I was an alien. No one asked me to go to their club. Not one person called me fit. And not a single whistle was directed at me. The moral of the story is, if you want to avoid the West Street bullshit: go armed with toilet roll.

Xoxo WBR

Got a West Street story you’d like to share? Get in touch.

 


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