The Brighton I knew and loved has vanished. Now living on the outskirts, I still work in and visit Brighton from time to time.

I must say how sad I am to see what it has become. On a recent visit in the early hours of a Saturday morning, I thought I had entered a war zone.

All around, fights were erupting, fists and feet were flying and you could hear the sound of breaking bottles as they exploded on the flag-stones, scattering slivers of glass all around.

The police were doing their best to contain the situation.

There were people ejecting the contents of their stomachs in the gutters and people whose legs had refused to work any more and had seemed to have turned to rubber.

The language being used would have made an old soldier spin in his grave. What I did notice in this melee was the look of anger in these people's eyes, these human-beings who were supposed to be out enjoying themselves. Maybe this is a new form of enjoyment?

The one element missing was anybody handing out cups of tea. What was evident, though, was plenty of alcohol. I don't blame the alcohol itself but the people who consume it and don't know when they've reached their limit.

A good money-making scheme to help solve this problem would be to start fining people for being drunk in charge of their own body.

You could have a huge pen and keep them there until they paid up. Why hasn't anyone else thought of this? It would be like a giant sin-bin and might even develop into another Brighton tourist attraction.

Oh well, I'm going to have a drink and work on my new idea.

-Paul-John Harris, Newhaven