Brighton Beach

Nev/Nathan/Kristine/Swann's house-warming party. Complete with fireworks.

I am officially the worst photographer of fireworks. I was told at least twice not to give up the day job.

A firework went into our little crowd. It was very very scary. THIS scary, infact...



...no wait, THIS scary:





More amazing firework photographs.


"Pretend you've just realised you have the legs of a mule."



"You're a lonely leopard, in a zoo, in a cage, calling out for love and affection."

Nathan.

Taxi.

We love Nev.

"Aww, stop taking photos of me, maaaaan..."

Classy bird.

Natalie: "I'm going to get a tattoo on the back of my eyeballs which you can only see when I'm having a seizure. It'll say 'I'm having a seizure, call 999', in tribal".

Nev and I love Woody.

The Schmee Scream.

"If you take another fookin' photo..."

Haha. Schmeats trying to fend off an admirer. She is actually licking his neck in the photo below.

Josh was there, all smiles.

Apparently this is a girl's worst nightmare.

Natalie and I created Mission Boyfriend, and pretended to be photographers for Brighton Beach, just to take pictures of good-looking men. It's not shallow, it's art. (Haha).

Alright, Beaver?

More possible suitors...

Natalie has stalkerish tendencies and called this one "Argos Boy", because she is a stalker.

The man on the left reminded me that drugs are bad. Very bad.

Some future husbands didn't want to be photographed...

"Iyyerr, Jon."

This guy is the EXACT replica of the New Zealand guy Natalie and myself encountered a couple of months ago. Go back and look. You'll be amazed.

It's not Sophbeck without creepily peeping round from behind the wall.

It's a small world: Max Almond.

This time it was Josh and Harry's turn to admit defeat.

Grumpy Dave was throwing some rather large shapes.