Why The Haunt is Brighton’s best night out

The place to channel your inner Morrissey


The beauty of The Haunt is that it’s pretty innocuous. Alongside the glittery Shoosh and palatial Pryzm, this little side-street club doesn’t seem like much on first glance.

This is what makes the place so much more individualised, more intimate and far more enjoyable. Sure, Pryzm or The Arch might be where your average group will be headed, but who wants to be your average group?

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I don’t know about you but being violently pummelled by some “absolute ruddy nutter” who is “living for the sesh” so devotedly that he’s begun dribbling over the bar in the disco room, and finger gunning the air like he’s being demented by fuck boy ghouls, is not my idea of a memorable evening.

The Haunt has diversity. There is a different night of the week to suit all tastes: Fat Poppadaddys, Secret Discotheque, Wonder Yeahs and Sh*t Pop, to name a few.

It’s all subjective, but hear me out. Drum and bass is great, but where are the bloody lyrics? It’s like one monotonous funeral march after a couple of minutes. When I’m out with mates, I want the DJ to bang some Mr Brightside out when the time is right.

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This leads me on to the jewel in The Haunt’s crown: Fat Poppadaddys on Monday nights.

If, like me, you’re into indie stuff: aka Oasis, David Bowie, The Stone Roses etc, then this is the night for you.

In fact, if you religiously follow northern bands in parkas or skinny jeans, this is the second coming.

Fat Pops is a safe haven for Alex Turner wannabes to meet under the cover of darkness, exchange leather jackets and share quiff-moulding tips, whilst muttering sweet nothings about the state of Miles Kane’s kimonos. We can bask in the magnificence of the DJ as he plays Fool’s Gold, When the Sun Goes Down, and Supersonic back to back. The photographer shoots in black and white, for those intensely edgy profile picture updates the following morning.

Clubbing in Brighton suddenly makes sense.

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Who needs drink when you have…The Who? There’s no demand to dance preposterously to a Stormzy song you only sort of know after a few Jagerbombs. Instead, you can relax and actually have a decent time with your mates, remembering that slightly average Blur track you haven’t heard in years.

If you are sitting here laughing at how pretentious and indie I sound, then fair. But when it came to Arctic Monkeys night the other week, the place was ram-packed. Take that as you will.

The Haunt may not be for everyone, but it will always be mine, and countless others’, favourite choice for a night out in Brighton. If you can stomach the leather jackets, you’ll honestly love it.