Brighton has always attracted the right sort. Way back in 1822, when the seaside city was just developing as a holiday capital, a servant from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, George Wilson, met a guardsman there in a pub called the Duke of Wellington.
Fancying the look of him, and probably knowing guardsmen were famously easy, he offered him a sovereign and two shillings to go to the beach together and ‘commit an unnatural crime’.
Not much has changed.