Brighton - Gaz Whelan
Wednesday 16th May 2007

We spend the 8 hour journey from Manchester to the south coast watching movies, Borat (again!) and City Of Gods, a film which is one of the bands all time favourite's. The movie approaches its conclusion just as we arrive at our hotel in a place called Lewes around 8 miles from Brighton. Most of us vacate the tour bus as the 'boutique' hotel looks very welcoming with its genuine 15th century bar and reception. But alas, as per fuckin' (sorry) usual the bedrooms are situated in a 70's built box style annex at the rear. Shaun soon christens it 'Crossroads Motel'. Anyway we all meet up for a nightcap and finally retire around 3 a.m.

The following morning I'm suddenly awoken by the smell of 'urine and CHEAP biscuits', as I open my eyes all became clear as I am visually assaulted by the oldest hotel maid in Europe. She speaks a dialect that can only be described as 'before English' she then proceeds to shout orders in my direction. Stunned, scared and still half asleep I grabbed my towel (and crucifix) and dive into the bathroom.

When the coast is clear I leave my room and head into the town in search of coffee and breakfast. Lewes is a quaint hilly hamlet mushroomed with 15th century buildings, very south-coast-England, the kind of place Enid Blyton's 'famous five' might retire to. I sit outside a caf‚ with my coffee and study the locals and it soon becomes apparent how tall and healthy everyone looks, a far cry from us 'northerners' with our vitamin deficiency and respiratory problems inherited without prejudice. They are all so middle class and white! I begin to suspect that if Saltz (assistant tour manager) or Julie (vocals) both of whom are of Jamaican descent, were to come out of the hotel would it be possible for them to make it the 200 yards to the caf‚ without being very politely approached by a local and asked 'are you lost?

But the locals seemed so polite and friendly except for a cantankerous old man in his late 60's who plotts up at the table beside me. Without exception every passer-by greets him warmly with "hello Charlie, good morning", which he completely ignores or simply snarls to himself. I noticed he has two cigarettes burning at once and he is smoking them alternatively, he also wears two watches, one on each wrist. It is mid-day and one watch reads 11.55 whilst the other displays 12.05, just in case he is early or late I suppose...fantastic! Then two traffic wardens (inspectors) the most disliked occupation in Christendom quietly sliver passed, "good morning to the both of you hope you have a nice day", Charlie shouts....very eccentric. He probably lives in the famous castle that is home to Lewes.

I decide to venture off and check out said castle. Now just to give you some idea how beautiful and different this place is compared to industrial Manchester from where we originate, I am standing admiring the magnificence of the castle when I am politely informed that I am in fact looking at the local high security prison! Embarrassed and feeling like a medieval surf, I scurry off and notice I'd passed by the castle en-route as it was nestled amongst several other 15th century buildings.