A couple of young lads went swimming at Brighton Beach U.K. this morning. Or this afternoon, I guess.
Brighton was this afternoon. Castles were this morning. And tomorrow morning.
That water is like freaking ice water. And I would know because in London you have to order ice in your water or there isn’t any ice in it – but that’s another story.
So we see these lunatics – ah, lads – swimming. Apparently, members of the iceberg club…
And then they climb out and they decide to start jumping off the pier – a height of about 40 or 50 feet.
I know! Insane.
But we were all young and crazy once.
And then the ones who got caught went one way and the ones who didn’t jump went the other way – escorted off the pier by security – and got a very stern English talking to. So after the reprimand was over, I handed them my card and said I’d post their antics on my blog.
After all, a little shenanigans never hurt anybody. And I should know. That’s kinda what we do here, writer style.