Random scenes from Brighton Pride:

Mobile phone conversation with Ian at London Bridge: "OK, I'm runnning up the approach to the platform now, the train's about to leave, OK, I'm on the platform, oh shit, I've dropped my sunglasses on the track!"

A man opposite me on the train wearing very, very short shorts, and preparing for Pride by writing his name and number on many little bits of paper.

The parade, with dance floats and camp cowboys dressed in rainbow-coloured sequined suits and stetsons.

The sign in the window of a computer store en route: "Get 10% off customs PCs if you are gay!"

My new red Merrell trainers: "Are you in training for Edmonton?" "It's true what they say about people with big feet - they need big shoes."

"Your what? Boyfriend? You?"

The fairground ride with its extreme centrifugal and g-forces. Andy: "The bloodvessels in my head are going to burst!" Guy: "I'm gonna be sick, I'm gonna be sick, I'm gonna be sick!"

"How often do you come down to Brighton? You know everybody!" That's because everyone there was a Londoner. It was RVT-on-Sea.

Huge queues outside the portaloos meaning everyone had to go pee in the wooded hillside.

Andy: "Shit! I've just peed on a lesbian!"

Venturing further up the wooded hillside, away from the music, the noise, and the crowds; and surreally emerging onto a cricket pitch, mid-match - genteel West Sussex senior citizens in white flannels blissfully unaware of the hedonistic madness below.

Watching a very drunk friend fall over, stand up, and fall over again. And loving it.

The mass exodus back to town, aka the last chance saloon stagger. "You're nice. What's your name? Do you live in Brighton?"

"Sorry, your friend is too drunk - the bouncers won't let him in."

Fireworks over the sea.

The long train ride back to London enlivened by wonderfully drunk and drug-addled people. What a day!