On our way back to the hotel, we wandered through the famous Lanes of Brighton. After we got to our room, we didn't feel like going to bed yet (still amped from the of Montreal show, I guess... or perhaps we didn't feel like listening to our neighbours through the paper thin walls). So we asked Mr. Google to find us a nearby pub open until 3AM. There were several, actually, owing to the fact that Brighton is the white trash playground of England™. The one we tried to go to had a lineup out the door, but fortunately it was right next door to this charming little number.
This is what it looked like in the upstairs where we sat. Downstairs there were two turntables, a DJ, and some fish bowls.
A couple sitting opposite us were on a British romantic date; i.e., get piss-drunk at a pub with your mates, and snog passionately with whomever is available.