PERVADING stench of urine earns British seaside resort its just rewards.
Daphne Crow, a Brighton Trader, has welcomed the arrival of the uncontested ‘Golden Urinal’ trophy to her city.
“There’s no such thing as bad publicity,” she said cheerfully.
“We have worked hard to give visitors to Brighton a total assault on their senses.”
“There is constant noise from the singers in the beach bars and the drunken hens and stags.”
“Tourists can witness inspirational, witty graffiti and admire our closed-down shops.”
“You will be welcome to join the friendliest residents for dogging in the park.”
“It has taken years of hard work to make all the streets reek of p*ss and, especially after it rains, you can take this smell home with you!”
“Who needs to buy an expensive stick-of-rock when you can carry Brighton’s essential essence home on the sole of your shoes?”
“And it’s not just the smell that attracts visitors to our jewel on the East Sussex coast.”
“You can glide 138 metres up the world’s tallest moving observation tower to observe the rotting hulk of the West Pier.”
“Who could ask for more?”
“After we contributed £36 million of public money to this project, what do you thing the streets would smell of?”