Good times!
Phoenix Festival, mid 90s.

This was the year that;

1. My mate got food poisoning (I told him the sausages were dodgy, would he listen?)

2. We camped near these guys who kept us entertained with the catch-phrase “Skin-up Graham” all weekend.

3. The bloke in the next tent had the “best dope known to mankind” (turned out it was a legal high).

4. One of the girls had her bag pinched out of their tent, turns out she was sensible and it only had clothes in, so I suggested she tried lost property to see if it had been ditched when the thieving little bastards realized they’d pinched nothing of value. She returned an hour later, big smile, holding the bag aloft in victory. It was short lived, they’d stolen all her knickers!


Random festival memories

A man naked except for a fur rug tied to his back with string, carrying a Stop Children Crossing Lollipop.

Going for a piss in the woods at Donington Monsters of Rock, to be greeted by a young lass dropping her strides and relieving herself in front of me. When I jokingly pointed out this was the gents area, she muttered something in German, at least I think it was German as she had a major bush going on.

My first smell of dope, down the front at Donington 1986, stood next to some Hells Angels, this was closely followed by my first smell of Hells Angels piss as one particularly hairy biker deposited a few litres of secondhand cider over the people in front of him. These lucky people even thanked him for the gift.

Not being allowed to take plastic bottles of beer in, so watching people trying to drink three litres of cheap bitter in double quick time, so as not to miss Warlock. I doubt they remembered much about them.

Being called to toilets to see the biggest turd in the history of the human race. The Guinness Book of Records would later be in attendance.

Talking to a lad who was going to be in trouble when he got home, his Mum had seen him on the TV coverage with “Cunt” written on his forehead in marker pen.

Listening to a bloke describing how he’d just gone down on a girl, this being the third night of the festival.


And finally…

It was at Donington Monsters of Rock in the late 80s where a group of my mates were camping over night. As was the way with this one day events, the camp site was a scene from hell, with wall to wall lager and vomit, which was one of the reasons I never stayed there over night. Anyway the story goes that Kev; a skinny thick bass player, long black greasy hair, skin of alabaster due to never seeing the sun and possessor of the dumbest monotone voice, actually manages to land a girlfriend and not only that gets her to come to the gig. After a few beers around the camp fire, she decides it's time to retire to the tent for some action, drags him off to much cheering from his mates. There is very little privacy to be had in a tent, especially when everyone you are camping with sneaks up and stands next to it. Noises ensue and then the GF's voice can be heard.
"Call me a bitch!"
"Eh?" (Imagine in the dumb monotone voice.)
"Go on, and a slut too."
"Why?"
"Because I like it when you talk dirty to me."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, go on."
Silence.
"Come on!"
"I can't, I don't like those words."
The silence is broken by one of his mates who shouts at the top of his voice,
"YOU'RE A FUCKING BITCH, A SLUT, NOW SUCK MY COCK!"
She was not happy!
(Markthrone, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 22:00, 1 reply)

Quality
She was asking for it. Literally.
(McChinaman banned, Wed 10 Jun 2009, 12:00, closed)