As the witching hour drew closer, we parked our broomsticks for a quick dip into the QA's cauldron.

The crowd were on good form as always.

Top of the billing was Kitty Litter, the high priestess of northern charm, who's brand of humour is suitably horrifying. Appropriate, perhaps, that my photos make it look as if she's staring up at me from the bottom of a blood bath, particularly after launching an acid attack on the size of my neck...(?)

It must be said, that as a REALBrighton photographer, one must [sigh of resignation] expect a bit of abuse, however, my camera seems to have the strange, magical reaction of deleting all the flattering photos and whisking me to another venue when it happens... odd that...