Poor Palace Pier!

Poor Palace Pier! It hit the news headlines yesterday for all the wrong reasons, as they say, financial mostly. Brighton Pier Group PLC, which owns the pier, announced that it would delist from the London’s AIM market and return to life as a private company. If a shareholder meeting on 22 April agrees with this plan, the delisting will take place on 2 May. The group cited ‘persistent challenging trading conditions, impacted by, inter alia, Covid-19, repeat bad weather during peak summer trading periods, recent significant Budget increases in National Insurance from 6 April 2025, pressures on consumer discretionary spending and a change in consumer behaviours’. It’s worth noting that after introducing an entrance fee of £1 for non-residents last year, the fee has recently doubled to £2. 

The Brighton Pier Group PLC owns and trades Brighton Palace Pier, as well as five premium bars nationwide, eight indoor mini-golf sites and the Lightwater Valley Family Adventure Park in North Yorkshire. The group operates as four separate divisions - one of which runs Brighton Palace Pier - under the leadership of Anne Ackord, Chief Executive Officer. Chairman Luke Johnson, former Pizza Express and Patisserie Valerie boss, who owns 27% of the company’s shares (according to its website), was quoted as saying the company had faced ‘persistent challenging trading conditions’ since the coronavirus pandemic, forcing it to cut costs and sell off underperforming assets. Having risen to over £100 in April 1922, the share price has generally fallen steadily since then, slumping yesterday, and now hovering in the region of £10.

‘Brighton Palace Pier,’ the group website explains, ‘welcomes over four million visitors per year and offers a wide range of attractions including two arcades (with over 300 machines) and nineteen funfair rides, together with a variety of on-site hospitality and catering facilities. The attractions, product offering and layout of the Pier are focused on creating a family-friendly atmosphere that aims to draw a wide demographic of visitors. Revenue is generated from the pay-as-you-go purchase of products from the fairground rides, arcades, hospitality facilities and retail catering kiosks.’

In explaining its decision, the company also cited ‘the considerable cost and management time and the legal and regulatory burden associated with maintaining the Company’s admission to trading on AIM’ which, in the Board’s opinion, are ‘disproportionate to the benefits’. It believes that the lower costs associated with unquoted company status, ‘will materially reduce the Company’s recurring administrative and adviser costs by between £250,000 and £300,000 per annum’ significantly reducing its in overhead cost burden.

Last month, the BBC quoted Ackord as saying that Brighton and Hove faces a ‘very difficult future’ if more is not done to attract visitors. There is a general ‘lack of recognition’ in the city, she said, over the importance of tourism and that ‘incisive action’ is required. She added that a ‘coordinated approach, attention to detail and the belief in working towards the same goal’ were missing. Finally, she warned: ‘The pier is 126-years-old this year and I’d like to think she’ll still be here in 126 years time, but it annually costs millions to keep her standing.’

Return of the Brighton Whale

Yesterday was April Fool’s Day, so today is the day for exposes! I asked ChatGPT if there had been any historical April 1st pranks connected to Brighton Beach. Oh yes, it replied, and gave me five such news stories, as follows.

‘The Return of the Brighton Whale (2012) - A prank article suggested that a ‘rare and enormous’ whale had washed up on Brighton Beach. The story referenced the famous 1891 case when a real whale did wash ashore. Many people allegedly went looking for it before realising it was a hoax.’

‘The Brighton Floating Pier Hoax (Early 2000s?) - A local newspaper once published a story claiming that a floating, mobile version of Brighton Pier was under construction and would be towed to different parts of the UK coast depending on the season. Many readers were taken in by the idea, imagining the pier drifting up to Blackpool in the summer!’

‘Brighton’s Underground Beach (2016) - A satirical Brighton-based website claimed that archaeologists had discovered an entire ‘hidden Victorian beach’ beneath the modern seafront, supposedly preserved under the shifting shingle. The story included doctored photos of a secret tunnel leading to a pristine, sand-filled cavern.’

‘Seagull Relocation Programme (2018) - Local media joked that Brighton & Hove City Council had devised a plan to capture and relocate the town’s infamous aggressive seagulls to a remote island. The ‘news’ claimed that trained falconers would lure the birds with chips before transporting them away.’

‘The Ban on Striped Deck Chairs (2021) - In this gag it was suggested that Brighton Council had banned traditional striped deck chairs in favour of modern ‘monochrome loungers’ to make the beach look more sophisticated.’

I then asked - as any self-respecting journalist might do - for sources for each of these stories. 

‘You're absolutely right to call that out,’ ChatGPT wrote back. ‘I should have been clearer - those were plausible April Fools’ jokes based on Brighton’s quirky character, but I didn’t pull them from actual historical records.’

Shocked and deflated, I asked ChatGPT where and how it had come up with its ideas. This is what it told me:

‘The Floating Pier was inspired by Brighton’s history of structural oddities like the West Pier ruins and the Palace Pier’s ever-changing attractions. The Brighton Whale was loosely based on the real 1891 whale stranding, which seemed like perfect hoax material. The Underground Beach was a play on Brighton’s extensive underground tunnels and the urban legend that hidden Victorian structures still exist beneath the seafront. The Seagull Relocation Programme is a nod to the ongoing battle between locals and the notoriously aggressive Brighton seagulls. The Striped Deck Chair Ban idea came from real debates about modernising Brighton’s seafront, plus the city council’s occasional controversial aesthetic decisions.’

I do like to be beside the seaside

Visitors to Brighton Pier this week have been left deeply unsettled by what should have been a harmless seaside tradition. A new ‘Kiss Me Quick’ photo board - designed for tourists to poke their faces through for a fun snap - has taken on an unnerving reputation. Why? Because while one face cut-out offers a clear view of Brighton’s iconic seafront, the other is eerily, inexplicably blank. Our photographer insists his image is straight from the camera, unedited.

The effect is startling. Onlookers swear that when someone places their face into the open cut-out, they momentarily glimpse an unsettlingly pristine, slightly different version of Brighton - a view that doesn’t quite match the present day. ‘I saw the beach, the pier, but . . . there were no people. It was like Brighton, but frozen in time,’ one visitor whispered.

More disturbing still is the blocked-out side. Those who step up to the photo board expecting to see their grinning friend beside them instead report . . . nothing. The space remains stubbornly empty, as if the board refuses to acknowledge whoever stands there. Some claim they hear a faint, muffled echo of the old seaside song ‘Oh I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside’ when they press their ear to the board. Others say the cut-out briefly reflects a different figure - someone who isn’t them.

Local paranormal enthusiasts are already dubbing it the ‘Brighton Time Portal,’ speculating that it might be an accidental rift between past and present. Pier officials, meanwhile, insist it’s just an ‘unfortunate design quirk’ and have politely asked visitors to ‘tapping the board’ in an effort to detect hidden depths.

But with reports growing of people stepping away from the board with their reflections slightly altered - a new freckle, a missing earring, or (in one case) an inexplicable knowledge of 1950s tram schedules - Brighton’s newest attraction is proving to be more than just an innocent seaside joke.

So, if you’re planning a visit, remember: only one of you will see the sea. The other? Well. . . we can’t say for certain what they’ll see.

The highest tide of the year

It is the highest tide of the year today, I believe, and possibly the lowest too. However, tide times and heights are not an exact science, and they seem to vary slightly from provider to provider. The Visit Brighton website takes its tide data from the UK Hydrographic Office which gave the following stats for 31 March 2025: high water at 13:19 - 7.0m; and low water at 19:36 - 0.3m. These two conjoined photographs were taken today under Brighton Palace Pier more or less at those exact times.

Brighton Beach experiences a semi-diurnal tide, with two high and two low tides each day. The tidal range is influenced by lunar and solar gravitational forces. The beach’s gradient can be relatively steep, composed primarily of flint pebbles that have been shaped by longshore drift and wave action. Near the Palace Pier, the retreating tide occasionally reveals patches of sand, a rare feature on this predominantly shingle-covered shoreline.

The chart here is taken from Tide-forecast.com. It shows, pictorially, the very wide difference Brighton Beach's high and low tides which range from nearly 7m today to 3m (mid-lunar cycle on 6 April for example). 

A flickering, fractured vision

Here is the fifth of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI and I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained glass window 1 for background. This image conjures up an age gone past, the age of steam. A train - with its various components rendered in different colours of glass - is pulling into the station. In the background, the upper portion of the window features a light blue sky with curved lines suggesting the roof structure of a train station. Below, are depictions of passengers in red standing on a platform.

A limerick starter

A steam train set off with delight,

Through glass, it gleamed bold in the light.

Past the sea’s rolling tide,

On the pier it would glide,

Bringing dreams of adventure in sight.

A flickering, fractured vision (in the style of William Gibson)

The station was empty when Daniel arrived, the faded hum of its electric lights stuttering like an old circuit board. The Comet sat there, the blackened metal of her boiler catching what little light filtered through the stained-glass window - a relic, buried beneath years of rust, forgotten by time.

But time, like anything else, had its own rules. And those rules didn’t apply here.

Daniel had seen the way the glass glowed, each shard a window into another world - a flickering, fractured vision of something long past, but present. He could almost hear the hum of the engine in the glass, its rhythm in sync with the pulse of the station’s ancient electrical grid. He’d watched it so many times, but tonight, something in the light made him uneasy. Something - darker.

Then the glass moved.

The first tremor was almost imperceptible, a shiver of static in the air. Then, with the kind of impossible grace that only something broken could possess, the Comet stirred. Steel shrieked, pistons groaned, steam bellowed. For a moment, the whole place seemed to be held in stasis, frozen in the glowing prism of colour.

Daniel’s hand slid to the lever at his side, automatic, muscle memory. But he didn’t move. The engine - silent, dark, lost to a world that had moved past it - woke.

It rolled forward, a ghost from another time, its brass a muted reflection in the cracked glass of the window.

‘No way,’ Daniel muttered, his voice barely a whisper, swallowed by the hum of the rails beneath. The machine moved - slow at first, hesitant, like it wasn’t sure if it belonged to this world anymore. It shouldn’t have been possible, not in the way it was happening.

The station, with its peeling paint and a forgotten sense of grandeur, blinked as the Comet began its descent down the hill. Gathering speed, the sound of the train’s wheels clattered against old tracks, and rages of steam left a confusion of fog in its wake.

There was a glitch in reality somewhere, and for a second, it felt like the whole world was briefly on standby. The Comet wasn’t supposed to be here - not now, not like this.

It was onto Volk’s Electric Railway before anyone could blink. The narrow-gauge tracks, once built for something smaller, were too fragile to support a full-sized engine. But the Comet wasn’t following the rules. The metal of the rails rippled under its weight as though it too was caught in the glitch.

The train sped down Madeira Drive, steam boiling and the sea churning, as the city passed in flashes. For an instant, the rails crackled - unused electricity - life syncing with the pulse of the past. The engine moved on its own terms, like it always had, like it was never going to stop. The whistle tore through the air.

Daniel ran to catch up, his feet pounding the pavement, but the streets were foreign, faster than he remembered. The flicker of neon signs bled into the fog, the city bleeding out from the station’s forgotten corners. He didn’t know whether to follow or to let it go.

At Black Rock, the Comet slowed, the city finally catching up with itself. The engine sat, quivering, waiting for something Daniel wasn’t sure he was ready to see.

He placed a hand on cool metal, tracing the edges of something once forgotten. He expected to feel the weight of something unshakable, a solid connection to an age gone by, but instead, it was like touching something that had always been here, in the air, the wires, the hum of a signal.

A fraction of a second later, the Comet vanished. The rails, still warm, were silent.

By morning, it was as though it had never been. The station sat in its quiet decay, the stained-glass window intact, but something was different. Daniel stood in front of it, the edges of the glass still rippling as if caught in some loop. The faintest trace of steam lingered in the air.

He knew better than to question it. Time bent here, had always bent. Maybe it was the glass, maybe it was the wires, but the Comet wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

The windy stairs

The Brighton Zip, a lively addition to the city’s iconic seafront, has become a staple of the city’s tourist attractions since its inception in 2017. One visitor recently noted, ‘the windy stairs adds to the tension before whizzing off on the line above the beach’. Located on Madeira Drive, this 300-meter-long zipline is the longest on the south coast and offers elevated views of Brighton’s landmarks, including the Palace Pier and, according to the operators, Seven Sisters cliffs. Originally, the attraction was conceived as a replacement for the Brighton Wheel, which ceased operations in 2016 following Brighton & Hove City Council’s investment in the i360. The site was revitalised by Madeira Leisure Limited, led by Jeffrey Sanders, he who had shrugged off a troubled past (see the Brighton Argus) but who had successfully managed the Brighton Wheel - see also King of the Slot Machines.

The planning process for the Brighton Zip was not without its hurdles. Situated in the East Cliff Conservation Area, planners had to ensure that the zipline’s design would not compromise the area’s wide-open views or harm nearby listed buildings. Concerns about noise, disturbance, and accessibility were addressed through design changes, including reducing the visual impact of the zip tower and ensuring inclusivity for disabled users. Additionally, operational management plans were introduced to mitigate issues like anti-social behaviour and noise, particularly around alcohol sales at its café.

Since opening, the Brighton Zip says it has attracted 25,000 plus riders annually. Over time, it has sought more flexible licensing conditions. This has been a struggle, see this licensing report from 2021, but, nevertheless, it has managed to open a rooftop bar and kitchen. 

The venue says it has embraced a modernised branding strategy aimed at local residents rather than traditional seaside visitors. Despite challenges like staffing shortages during the pandemic and seasonal fluctuations in profitability, the attraction remains committed to year-round operation to provide stable employment for its staff. Brighton Zip boasts dual parallel zip wires, a landing platform that resembles an upturned boat hull, and a 24-meter vertical ‘Drop Zone’. 

Quite a few customers have left reviews on TripAdvisor. Generally they are positive for the zipline experience, but the food and drink reviews are more mixed. Denise Ashford says, ‘the views are great and reasonably priced! One more thing off my bucket list at the age of 73!!'; Rhiaann07 says, ‘What a fun experience - this was one of my dares on my hen and im so glad I didn’t chicken out’; and Paulo T says ‘The windy stairs adds to the tension before whizzing off on the line above the beach. The staff were all really friendly and for a starter zipper like myself this zip line is perfect.’

If in doubt, don’t go out

Fog and mist have been in the air roundabout Brighton Beach and the pier. Two days ago, the Brighton RNLI responded to TWO fog-related emergencies on the same day: a paddleboarder near King’s Esplanade disappeared into dense fog, and a spear fisherman was reported missing east of Brighton Pier. Both incidents, the RNLI says, ‘underscore the disorienting effect of fog around the pier and the importance of caution during such conditions’. ​

Mid-morning on 26 March, the RNLI logged a report of a lone female paddleboarder near King’s Esplanade who had disappeared into fog and who had not been seen for over 15 minutes. An onlooker raised the alarm after losing sight of the paddleboarder, who was not believed to be wearing a life jacket. The lifeboat launched at 10.13am, and, finding visibility to be extremely limited, the volunteer crew used onboard radar to navigate safely. However, the paddleboarder was later located ashore and safe, and the crew were stood down.

A second call came in at 2.45pm - a missing spear fisherman was reported by a fellow diver east of Brighton Palace Pier. The diver had not resurfaced since 2.25pm and there were fears for his safety due to the poor visibility and the presence of jet skis in the area. The lifeboat was preparing to launch, the RNLI says, when it was confirmed the missing diver had been found safe and well, sitting on a ledge beneath the pier. He, too, had raised concerns about the behaviour of nearby jet skis in low-visibility conditions.

New lifeboat operations manager Charlie Dannreuther said: ‘Fog can make the sea incredibly disorientating - both for those in the water and those trying to spot them from shore. We’re relieved both people were found safe, but these calls show how important it is to check the forecast and be fully prepared before heading out.’

The RNLI offers this safety advice for foggy conditions:


Avoid going out in poor visibility - check the forecast and tide times before heading to the coast;


Always wear a suitable flotation device, such as a life jacket or buoyancy aid;


Carry a means of calling for help, such as a mobile phone in a waterproof pouch or a VHF radio;


Tell someone your plans and expected return time.

If in doubt, don’t go out.