We tried the bottomless brunch at The Breakfast Club in Brighton

Not every aspect of modernity can be categorised in the plus column of life but the evolution of the bottomless brunch is a definite tick in the progress of humankind.

The Breakfast Club’s foray into the aforementioned boozy brunchy pursuits begins at a very manageable 3pm and therefore gained extra points before even a rasher was sizzled or a bottle of fizzy wine popped.

On our Saturday afternoon visit the keen brunchers were queueing outside the packed venue in Market Street.

We had a great spot on the top floor, overlooking the Lanes and flanked by a crew of lively lads celebrating a birthday, and an impressively well-turned out Hen party, chewing down the mimosas like they were going out instyle.

It was a good fun vibe, the Prosecco was flowing faster than an Oligarch’s yacht to Dubai and the Bloody Marys were nicely spiced and not much smaller than a superyacht.

The menu offered up some amazing decadent treats and we opted for two beastly brunch plates.

My American Deluxe was a wonder. A stack of The Breakfast Club’s fluffy pancakes, rib-eye steak, homestyle fried spuds, remarkably deep yellow scrambled eggs, a pot of maple syrup and the most marvellous maple-roasted slab bacon, sliced into thick burnt end-style chunks.

My chum’s Full Monty fry-up was an excellent take on the national favourite (that many tradesmen can’t be wrong) with perfect fried eggs and a satisfyingly substantial slice of black pud. The calorie count on the menu was about the only thing we didn’t like about the grub.

The drinks keep on coming thanks to some brilliant North American service from our super-friendly waitress who also happened to be exceptionally good at her job.

The allotted two hours of fun eased by in an increasingly buzzing atmos, with a good upbeat, ever-so-slighlty cheesy soundtrack, Diana Ross, The Commodores, Gwen Guthrie and plenty more Prosecco....

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