For the last few years Brighton Pride seems to be remembered for all the wrong reasons; the most worrying being the huge debt that it has acuminated, preventing any of the LGBT charities receiving a single penny after the event.
As fond as my memories are of the first Brighton Pride, which consisted of us all meeting in the park and sharing a few cans of beer and a sandwich, I much preferred the later Gay Prides in Preston Park, along with all the entertainment that was provided. I’d join in with the other line-dancing bears, grrr, amble around the collective stalls that sold everything from strap-on dilldos to “no one knows I’m gay” t-shirts; then I’d sit myself down by the main stage. Okay, from midday till 2 pm, the acts would be people or groups I’d never heard of and most likely never hear of again; but from thereon in things would get fabulously queer. Read more