IT’S STILL PACKED WITH GOODNESS
Last month we printed 48 of our city’s best bits as an antidote to the gloom we felt about the way things are going. We asked you for some of yours, and in they came…
BAGELMAN
You missed Bagelman! Dear gosh I love those bagels. And the staff are all so lovely. AND there are three branches, so you’re never too far from Bagelly goodness, (even if you stray as far as Hove). Mmmmm yeah.
BLATCHINGTON ROAD
The anti-matter Churchill Centre: no shopping trip to the city would be complete without a rummage through the rain-sodden videos in the basket outside S.C. Babyaid. Warning: a visit to Wine Me Up may cause unfortunate confusion between Ladies That Do! and Taboo.
BRIGHTON SAUSAGE COMPANY
£1.20 isn’t a lot to pay for a sausage roll, and these are simply the best you can get for your Brighton buck. There are loads of tasty sausage varieties, all made from happy, free-range livestock and totally organic. Add cheeses and deli counter goodies and you’ll leave with an empty wallet but a full and happy tummy.
CITY BOOKS
Still hanging on in the face of the ridiculous undercutting of the book market by supermarket chains and online giants, and even Borders didn’t manage that. Those Penguin illuminations in the window draw bibliophiles into City Books’ basement like moths to a flame.
THE HEART & HAND
Home to a killer 7″ vinyl jukebox (mod, psych and rock’n’roll its speciality). Proudly displays a poster for Gene Clark at the Richmond (a gig he died too soon to play, we gather). Plus lovely stained glass windows. Surprisingly, not full of posers.
NUDITY
Yes, people get nude in every city, but no one does it quite like Brighton. Our police wave on the annual naked bike ride and we have our own dedicated nudist beach. Something about this place just makes people want to peel off and be free.
PLAYGROUP
These creative bookers bring great festival-in-a-club parties, excellent gigs, underground speakeasies in secret locations, and just this month, Brighton’s newest and most varied arts and music festival in the stunning outdoors.
THE PRINCE ALBERT
Brighton’s self-proclaimed ‘most rock’n’roll pub’ has definitely got the chops to live up to it. Creaky old rockers rub shoulders with skinny indie kids and the upstairs venue is a must-play for any band worth their salt. And they’ve got their own original Banksy on the wall, not many pubs can say that.
PULP PRESS
Back to the tradition of read-in-an-hour pulp fiction paperbacks, this publishing house specialises in locally set stories. The one we read was about mods living the dream in their spiritual stomping ground – it had mugging, shagging and scooter death. What’s not to like?
QUADROPHENIA
When we first saw this as a kid, we knew one day we wanted to live here. Scooters, Booker T & The MGs, Sting dancing like a tit and of course the crown prince of youth culture heroes, Jimmy. Don’t be tempted to re-enact the shag down the Alley on East Street though – an Asian woman will come out the back door of a restaurant and shout at you. ]
THE ROBIN HOOD
So called because the bar profits are all donated to charity. Plus free internet access and, occasionally, free Wii. Beat that, Wetherspoon. A very generous way to run a pub.
SEVEN DIALS
For its comedy value – home to one of England’s least-navigable junctions, even on foot. Getting from Montpelier to the Preston Circus side is akin to the negotiating the obstacle course from ‘The Krypton Factor’, and takes twice as long. Lucky no one in Brighton can fucking drive either, eh?
SNOOPERS’ PARADISE
Snare drums and postcards and paintings of kittens. Action Man playsets and embroidered mittens. Soiled old centrefolds, tied up with string. These are a few of my favourite things.
THE WINDMILL
Incredible collection of artwork on the walls: beautiful screenprinted gig posters, comic art etc. Almost as much ink as there is on the Magnum Opus tattoo shop regulars who pop across the road. Good Sunday roasts too.
WRONG MUSIC
Uniting the likes of John Peel, LA tastemakers and strung-out rave casualties on the UK’s least appetising Class A’s is no mean feat, especially when it’s all done with some half-inched Corrie samples and crap wrestling outfits.
WORDS BY ELISE BUCKINGHAM, EMMA JEANNE CHARLESTON, TOM DARNELL, DAVID FREEMAN, STUART HUGGETT, PHILIP LAKKA, SARAH JANE LIPPIAT FIONA TWOHIG, THOMAS WALLER
