Babylon
by Ros Barber (Brighton)
A mate lived near Churchill Square. Walking home in the small hours I’d cut across West Street and zigzag through the alleyways. On a Saturday night it’s absolute Babylon down there, there’s loads of townies and suits and God knows, it’s really unhealthy.
Down the narrow street next to the Australian backpackers place there’s scaffolding on the right hand side and a man and a woman tucked away inside the scaffolding and there’s something wrong. I can hear her going Please, no, stop it, please, no, stop it.
Then a really big guy and a little guy come running down the road. Obviously bouncers: they’re both bald and they’ve got those big black bouncers jackets on. The little guy’s hopping up and down like a bantum rooster behind the big guy.
The big guy’s shouting “Oy, go on, get out of here!” and the man goes “Alright, I don’t want any trouble,” and starts walking away. The big guy goes “Go on, walk on, walk away,” and the little guy hopping behind him goes “Yeah. And walk far.”

