Clubbing (wahey, have it large, woot woot! Mentaaaaaal Woooo!)

The contents of those parentheses are meant to be disparaging by the way

I dislike clubbing, I dislike nightclubs, the reasons are many and lengthy, and I won't go into them here, (there's a Charlie Brooker column from the Guardian G2 supplement here which I pretty much agree with completely and probably unconsciously stole to form my own hatred), but thankfully, now that the smiley smiley nicey nicey day-glo party that is fresher's week is over, I haven't had to go to any nightclubs, because no-one here knows me well enough to be able to lie to/convince me that it might, actually be fun, and I am free to continue my misanthropic existence unabated.

So why then did I go to a club on friday, with none of my housemates? Because it was a free gig (Unitaur, with The Teenagers (good, but unintelligable), These New Puritans (dull) and Crystal Castles (raucous mentalness, the best)), and I may hate clubs, but I love freebies, I was conflicted, but my love of a deal won out. And there's one thing about Brighton clubs which actually makes them fairly bearable, the sea. The club I went to (the much hyped Digital) and many others, is right on the sea, which means when you pop outside amongst the smokers to escape a)the heat and b)the twattish angular haircutted Nathan Barley prongs you don't end up facing grimy streets and puking women like you do in Leeds on a friday night (we inspired I Predict A Riot! Get in!) you see the furious romance of the sea (and puking women). And when I'm drunk, there's nothing more fascinating than just staring at the sea, and breathing in the supposedly wholesome air.

I think there's another blog in here about the sea, and how we often take it for granted here (well at least I do), but I'll save that for later, I've already got one in mind about Buses, and one on shops to come, hold on to your hats you monkeys!