If you look very closely, you might be able to spot a motorbike in this picture...


Where are the traffic wardens, that's what I'd like to know.

Anyhoo, this was the scene down at Madeira Drive yesterday morning after every leather-clad biker in Britain decended on the seafront for a day of petrol-sniffing in the sun. You can read an article about it here. I don't know who wrote it, but by god, he's good. The title's supposed to be 'That Petrol Emotion', thus creating a fantastically lame pun about an 80s band, but unfortunately you just can't get the staff these days.

Personally I wasn't planning to attend the event at all. I was far more interested in the Brighton Food Festival which was holding a gourmet food market outside the Theatre Royal. I like a wild boar sausage roll and a jar of chilli jam as much as the next man, and I'm a big fan of Hell's Kitchen, so it seemed like a better choice than the grease-monkey convention down at the seafront. Unfortunately it proved hard to make it into town without getting intimate with a Fatboy along the way, so I ended up doing both.

The market turned out to be very interesting. I tried some Sweet Olive Jam (which tasted like marmalade mixed with olive oil), visited The Chocolate Alchemist, browsed a stall called 'I Can't Believe It's Not Parmesan', nearly bought a Hush Puppy Bang Bang, and met Chilli Pepper Pete, who was selling a chilli so hot it's in the Guiness Book of Records.

Most curious though was a company from Wiltshire which went by the name of Suzette's Pancakes. I'm sorry, but surely if your name's Suzette, you shouldn't be calling them pancakes..?