Vanessa Austin Locke: bRight-on

You’ve probably all heard by now that Brighton’s been named the worst resort in the UK with a huge 40 per cent of the vote. It even beat out competition from Blackpool, Bournemouth and… Skegness?! I’ve been known to be harsh on the place myself from time to time; it’s got an air of the self-righteous about it and all that tofu and hemp clothing… oy! It’s home to more layabouts and libertines than the Prince Regent ever even dreamed of, it’s too affluent to be interesting or edgy any more, its politics is comical on a good day and depressing on a bad day and the parking… well, it makes the songs Nick Cave writes sound like Euphoric House (or something else you might find uplifting).

But you know when you moan about your mum to someone and they listen, nod quietly, smile sympathetically and then… they start slagging her off too, and suddenly you’re all like, “you don’t talk about my mama like that, biatch!”? Well, seaside resort voters of the world, if you don’t like it here, do one. We really won’t miss you clogging up our beaches at the merest hint of sunshine.

So you think Brightonians have “chips on their shoulders”? Do you actually know what would happen if we put chips on our shoulders? Because I for one would love to see you lot come down to the seafront and put chips on your shoulders. You know how there aren’t any gangsters here any more a la Graham Greene, because we priced them all out of the market with love, peace and fat bonuses from The City? Well, we replaced them with some pretty badass seagulls. You think club security are borderline criminal hooligans? Just try slinging pebbles at one of our genetically modified beach bouncers and see what happens. I promise you, they haven’t been eating tofu.

“We’re more likely to turn out something great because of the sheer volume we produce and the atmosphere we nurture”

And as for being, “full of bohemians and bad art”, well, yes, it is. But anywhere where there’s a high concentration of artists means a lot of it’s going to be rubbish. However, it also means that we’re more likely to turn out something great because of the sheer volume we produce and the atmosphere we nurture. And quite frankly… at least we’re trying to better ourselves.

Oh, and you’ve got a problem with us introducing ‘Mx’ as a gender neutral option for transsexuals on our paperwork? Well thank God we don’t have to live with you. I’ve been travelling around the country a lot recently, after spending all my life thus far in Brighton and London, and I genuinely assumed that the world was a pretty tolerant, intellectually evolved place. I’ve never witnessed racism or discrimination based on sexuality. I’ve only ever heard about it in the papers and on TV, except for when those thugs and Godless church groups appear from outer space one weekend a year and we drown them in rainbow-coloured unicorn manure. I mean, I knew it existed, but somehow I thought it was a small problem. However, I’ve come to realise that, though it isn’t necessarily violent or even aggressive, and is often cloaked in casual humour, discrimination is rife in our country. How lucky I’ve felt to have been brought up in a place where prejudice wasn’t an option, because I didn’t even know it existed. So yes, Brighton is obnoxiously pleased with itself, but it has every right to be.

Picture credit: Nathalie Calonnec
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