So, the title pretty much sums it up. Last night, was walking to the cashpoint about half eleven, heading towards the hip hop night where we were heading toward (Edan and fellow heads from Lewis Recordings flown over from America..awesome night, but I digress). Anyway, I notice a naked woman, point her out to a friend to verify that I’m not imagining it, establish that in fact she is wearing a g-string and high heels, if nothing else. So we go to the cash point, and next thing I know there’s a tug at my hair (for those who don’t know, I have massive ‘poofy’ curly hair shooting out all over my head, like a kind of collapsed afro, approximately half a Brian May in size) and a female voice telling me I have lovely hair.
I turn around, I’m sure you can guess who it was.
Anyway, its time to fall back on the British Stiff Upper Lip for the second time in as many days. I do the only thing I think I can do in this situation, turn around look her right in the eye, ignore her nudity and have a perfectly normal discussion about hair care.
We head off and have a great night, I’m sure she does do. Disaster and Embasrrasment averted once more.
End of story.
PS Brighton is a great place to live: a surprise round every corner