Just about. Brighton is hen night central - much wearing of wings, bunny ears, halos, devil horns, etc. We were relatively tame in that respect (because, taaaaaacky), but still managed to be staggering through the streets of Brighton at 3am Saturday night, having consumed much alcohol and danced (with a guy in a cowboy outfit and a lasso) to some weird, weird music under a giant purple cow marquee.

I'd never heard a dance version of Johnny Cash's 'Jackson' before - but now I have. My life is complete. *g*