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» Festivals
Glastonbury 2008
Me and my ex-girlfriend are not your standard issue festival types. We're much more at home in clubs than tents, and more into the narcotic side of things than the boozy. Having said that, when I recieved a phone call from my Carlsberg Rep, asking if I'd like two tickets to go to Glastonbury for free, I jumped at it.
My parents live relatively close to Glastonbury, so we could use there as a base, get a good nights kip on the Thursday and then get down early Friday and get pitched. Now, my ex has absolutely no camping experience whatsoever, and also has an amazing ability to be late for absolutely everything, so I shouldn't have too surprised that when we eventually got to Glastonbury, everyone else had been there ages, my car was parked in the arse end of nowhere, and all the camping on the side of the festival I was parked nearest to was taken, so cue the trek carrying everything and eventually finding the shittest camping spot ever, a good 30 minutes from the gate we'd come into, but we were in and set.
However, as we'd got there late and I was desperate to find a) beer and b) food, I didn't really spend much time studying our surroundings. I'd made note of the big orange flag on the gazebo next to us and a few other notable things to navigate by, and so had been able to find the missus after a quick loo break and beer hunt.
Anyways, we got sorted and duly toddled off to go and see some bands and general do the festival 'thing'. Headed off to The Glade as I'd been told there was a Carlsberg area there. Sure enough, I find out about a hidden door down the side of a tent that leads us into a VIP type area, with a free bar and a free BBQ. Things are looking up!
So, laden with booze and starting to enjoy ourselves we head off into the night. Feeling quite happy and chilled out we decide it's time for a spot of MDMA action, which was duly sorted. The night carries on. As the night pans out, we move from the Class A action onto another powder more generally known as a Horse Tranquiliser. Now, we're both experienced clubbers, and this is not our first time we've taken K, so no problems there.
We have a good night and we eventually head back to the tent and all is good. We find out way back no problems and we aim to try and get some sleep ready for the following days shenanigans. As we were sleeping on rather bumpy ground, and neither of us were feeling upto sexeh tiem, we decide to have a slightly bigger line of the previouslyly mentioned Tranquiliser. Again no problems there.
Unfortunately for me, this is where it starts to go wrong.
Having just settled in for the night and starting to feel comfy, I became aware of the need for the free beer I'd drunk early to be released from the bladder. Upon mentioning this to the missus, and saying "Bollocks to it, I'll just go by the side of the tent", I am then told in no uncertain terms "No you fucking well will not, you'll at least go to the bush" Brilliant....
So getting redressed in the rather small tent was achieved, wellies were put on, headtorch was donned so as to the tents in front of me.
Figured out which way the nearest bush was and struck out. Now, for those of you who aren't silly enough to inhale prescriptions normally reserved for the four legged species out there, Ket has a very specific effect on the section of your brain that deals with depth perception. Namely, it stops it working properly, but I was used to this, and so set off. I managed to avoid the guy ropes of all the tents with ease, I didn't stumble or fall on a single tent. I did however forgot one small problem.
In a field full of tents, you cannot walk in a straight line, instead you meander back and forth whilst heading in a general direction. So you fix on where you're going and head for it.....
Unless it's dark...
And you've taken Ket...
And you've taken your contact lenses out to go sleep...
So you can literally only see six foot in front of you.
After ten minutes of walking probably around the same four tents I ended up fixing on a wierd blurry light source and sort of aiming for it... This porved fairly succesful for a while, but it turned out the light source was not the toilet block. Oh know. Just a random light on a post. Great. Eventually after 30 or so minutes of wandering around, I heard what sounded like nice peoples voices. As it happens, they were... I explained what had happened, and the nice lady said that she would help me try and find my tent. I didn't have my mobile, so she took my girlfriends number and rang it. I'll never forget the words she then spoke:
"Hi, have you lost your boyfriend?.... Well yeah I've found him... Yeah he's lost bless him.... I'll try and bring him back to you.. okay then..." So, I tehn describe where our tent was near (the gazebo from before etc) and am then lend hand in hand by this lady towards my tent, where I am duly reunited with my girlfriend. And again, I stand there as they discuss my situation, and my girlfriend thanks the nice lady for bringing me back. I just stood there like a 3 year old who's been found in the frozen section at Asda, and has been united with Mummy.
The really comical thing is that I'm 6'3" and both nice lady and my girlfriend are about 5' 4"... Oh, and I was 26 at the time.
But, if you were that nice lady at Glasto who found ame and returned me.. Cheers!
Apologies for length, but it's quiet at work and I'm bored.
(Fri 5th Jun 2009, 1:04, More)
Glastonbury 2008
Me and my ex-girlfriend are not your standard issue festival types. We're much more at home in clubs than tents, and more into the narcotic side of things than the boozy. Having said that, when I recieved a phone call from my Carlsberg Rep, asking if I'd like two tickets to go to Glastonbury for free, I jumped at it.
My parents live relatively close to Glastonbury, so we could use there as a base, get a good nights kip on the Thursday and then get down early Friday and get pitched. Now, my ex has absolutely no camping experience whatsoever, and also has an amazing ability to be late for absolutely everything, so I shouldn't have too surprised that when we eventually got to Glastonbury, everyone else had been there ages, my car was parked in the arse end of nowhere, and all the camping on the side of the festival I was parked nearest to was taken, so cue the trek carrying everything and eventually finding the shittest camping spot ever, a good 30 minutes from the gate we'd come into, but we were in and set.
However, as we'd got there late and I was desperate to find a) beer and b) food, I didn't really spend much time studying our surroundings. I'd made note of the big orange flag on the gazebo next to us and a few other notable things to navigate by, and so had been able to find the missus after a quick loo break and beer hunt.
Anyways, we got sorted and duly toddled off to go and see some bands and general do the festival 'thing'. Headed off to The Glade as I'd been told there was a Carlsberg area there. Sure enough, I find out about a hidden door down the side of a tent that leads us into a VIP type area, with a free bar and a free BBQ. Things are looking up!
So, laden with booze and starting to enjoy ourselves we head off into the night. Feeling quite happy and chilled out we decide it's time for a spot of MDMA action, which was duly sorted. The night carries on. As the night pans out, we move from the Class A action onto another powder more generally known as a Horse Tranquiliser. Now, we're both experienced clubbers, and this is not our first time we've taken K, so no problems there.
We have a good night and we eventually head back to the tent and all is good. We find out way back no problems and we aim to try and get some sleep ready for the following days shenanigans. As we were sleeping on rather bumpy ground, and neither of us were feeling upto sexeh tiem, we decide to have a slightly bigger line of the previouslyly mentioned Tranquiliser. Again no problems there.
Unfortunately for me, this is where it starts to go wrong.
Having just settled in for the night and starting to feel comfy, I became aware of the need for the free beer I'd drunk early to be released from the bladder. Upon mentioning this to the missus, and saying "Bollocks to it, I'll just go by the side of the tent", I am then told in no uncertain terms "No you fucking well will not, you'll at least go to the bush" Brilliant....
So getting redressed in the rather small tent was achieved, wellies were put on, headtorch was donned so as to the tents in front of me.
Figured out which way the nearest bush was and struck out. Now, for those of you who aren't silly enough to inhale prescriptions normally reserved for the four legged species out there, Ket has a very specific effect on the section of your brain that deals with depth perception. Namely, it stops it working properly, but I was used to this, and so set off. I managed to avoid the guy ropes of all the tents with ease, I didn't stumble or fall on a single tent. I did however forgot one small problem.
In a field full of tents, you cannot walk in a straight line, instead you meander back and forth whilst heading in a general direction. So you fix on where you're going and head for it.....
Unless it's dark...
And you've taken Ket...
And you've taken your contact lenses out to go sleep...
So you can literally only see six foot in front of you.
After ten minutes of walking probably around the same four tents I ended up fixing on a wierd blurry light source and sort of aiming for it... This porved fairly succesful for a while, but it turned out the light source was not the toilet block. Oh know. Just a random light on a post. Great. Eventually after 30 or so minutes of wandering around, I heard what sounded like nice peoples voices. As it happens, they were... I explained what had happened, and the nice lady said that she would help me try and find my tent. I didn't have my mobile, so she took my girlfriends number and rang it. I'll never forget the words she then spoke:
"Hi, have you lost your boyfriend?.... Well yeah I've found him... Yeah he's lost bless him.... I'll try and bring him back to you.. okay then..." So, I tehn describe where our tent was near (the gazebo from before etc) and am then lend hand in hand by this lady towards my tent, where I am duly reunited with my girlfriend. And again, I stand there as they discuss my situation, and my girlfriend thanks the nice lady for bringing me back. I just stood there like a 3 year old who's been found in the frozen section at Asda, and has been united with Mummy.
The really comical thing is that I'm 6'3" and both nice lady and my girlfriend are about 5' 4"... Oh, and I was 26 at the time.
But, if you were that nice lady at Glasto who found ame and returned me.. Cheers!
Apologies for length, but it's quiet at work and I'm bored.
(Fri 5th Jun 2009, 1:04, More)
» Nightclubs
A tale from the other side
I'm the manager of a medium sized nightclub up north (Yorkshire) and over the years I've seen some horrendous and some amazing things.
This particular tale took place during the summer two years ago. To set the scene a little, we are a very student friendly nightclub and we have two dedicated student nights, and in all honesty, without them 80% of income would vanish.
This means that during the summer when the town is sans-student we have to allow people in who would maybe not normally be welcome in order to make some money.
This particular night we had a group that could only be described as border line chavs in. All in standard issue stripes and questionable trainers. Their finest Elizabeth Duke chain hanging out and as was the 'fashion' at the time, sporting little lines shaved into their eyebrows.. You can imagine.
We also had a group of women who were out on a hen night. Now these women were very nice to talk to, really down to earth, but not particularly attractive. They were obviously not the richest of women, but they were out for a laugh and they were enjoying themselves.
Anyway, the inevitable happened and the two groups mingled, much joyment was had and romance blossomed.
For two involved it got a little too romantic and they retired to the toilets. Unbeknownst to them, we check the toilets at least every 15 minutes, and every nightclub worker learns within a week how to spot two people in a cubicle.
Now, as I mentioned, this was a quiet night, and the door lads were a bit bored, so rather than go in and be obvious, they decided it would be funnier to 'stealth it', they managed to get this photo ( tinyurl.com/c277sy - NSFW) which has now been passed all over the our town.
However, this is not where it stopped, the unfortunate couple had decided to use the toilet located in the back of the club, and during the excitement , one of the staff had mentioned to our DJ what was going on. So, sure enough, as the couple were escorted past the dancefloor, the DJ killed the music and asked everyone else in the club (about 200 people) to give them a cheer for being caught shagging in the toilets.
I have never seen anyone go quite so red, or scuttle out of a club quite so fast.
Length: Check the photo...
Moral: If you're gonna try something 'dodgy' in a club, don't do it in a quiet corner. That's what we expect you to do... :)
(Thu 9th Apr 2009, 17:07, More)
A tale from the other side
I'm the manager of a medium sized nightclub up north (Yorkshire) and over the years I've seen some horrendous and some amazing things.
This particular tale took place during the summer two years ago. To set the scene a little, we are a very student friendly nightclub and we have two dedicated student nights, and in all honesty, without them 80% of income would vanish.
This means that during the summer when the town is sans-student we have to allow people in who would maybe not normally be welcome in order to make some money.
This particular night we had a group that could only be described as border line chavs in. All in standard issue stripes and questionable trainers. Their finest Elizabeth Duke chain hanging out and as was the 'fashion' at the time, sporting little lines shaved into their eyebrows.. You can imagine.
We also had a group of women who were out on a hen night. Now these women were very nice to talk to, really down to earth, but not particularly attractive. They were obviously not the richest of women, but they were out for a laugh and they were enjoying themselves.
Anyway, the inevitable happened and the two groups mingled, much joyment was had and romance blossomed.
For two involved it got a little too romantic and they retired to the toilets. Unbeknownst to them, we check the toilets at least every 15 minutes, and every nightclub worker learns within a week how to spot two people in a cubicle.
Now, as I mentioned, this was a quiet night, and the door lads were a bit bored, so rather than go in and be obvious, they decided it would be funnier to 'stealth it', they managed to get this photo ( tinyurl.com/c277sy - NSFW) which has now been passed all over the our town.
However, this is not where it stopped, the unfortunate couple had decided to use the toilet located in the back of the club, and during the excitement , one of the staff had mentioned to our DJ what was going on. So, sure enough, as the couple were escorted past the dancefloor, the DJ killed the music and asked everyone else in the club (about 200 people) to give them a cheer for being caught shagging in the toilets.
I have never seen anyone go quite so red, or scuttle out of a club quite so fast.
Length: Check the photo...
Moral: If you're gonna try something 'dodgy' in a club, don't do it in a quiet corner. That's what we expect you to do... :)
(Thu 9th Apr 2009, 17:07, More)
» Nightclubs
Just a quick reaction to some of the comments on here:
It's impossible to open a barrel because they have an anti-tamper seal on them. However, if that worries you, then have a bottle, you'll see us open it right in front of you and everything, so you'll know it's not watered down.
Dress codes are bollocks. We use them as an excuse to not let in people who are
i) too pissed/off their faces
ii) look like cunts,
iii) we don't like
iv) we just want to annoy.
Doormen are generally nice people who have a shit job. Some are thugs granted, but not all.
However, anyone wearing a 'Bomber' jacket is a prick.
Most clubs have flyer staff out on the nights they are open. If you read these flyers you wil know what music is being played prior to your arrival, and it may even have the door charge printed on it. Thus, you will not have to tell me that you are 'not fucking paying that' only to come half an hour later and do just that because you've been pressured into it by your not-quite-as-tight mates.
Finally, if you have sex in a nightclub, be aware that most mobile phones have cameras, and most doormen have mobile phones. They also have people like me that will post the footage on youtube...
(Thu 9th Apr 2009, 15:42, More)
Just a quick reaction to some of the comments on here:
It's impossible to open a barrel because they have an anti-tamper seal on them. However, if that worries you, then have a bottle, you'll see us open it right in front of you and everything, so you'll know it's not watered down.
Dress codes are bollocks. We use them as an excuse to not let in people who are
i) too pissed/off their faces
ii) look like cunts,
iii) we don't like
iv) we just want to annoy.
Doormen are generally nice people who have a shit job. Some are thugs granted, but not all.
However, anyone wearing a 'Bomber' jacket is a prick.
Most clubs have flyer staff out on the nights they are open. If you read these flyers you wil know what music is being played prior to your arrival, and it may even have the door charge printed on it. Thus, you will not have to tell me that you are 'not fucking paying that' only to come half an hour later and do just that because you've been pressured into it by your not-quite-as-tight mates.
Finally, if you have sex in a nightclub, be aware that most mobile phones have cameras, and most doormen have mobile phones. They also have people like me that will post the footage on youtube...
(Thu 9th Apr 2009, 15:42, More)
» Social Networking Gaffes
Work Facebook vs Personal Facebook
I work for one of those companies that pretends to be a person. We've got about 2500 friends and most of them are from our main customer base (the students of the town I live in).
Unfortunately, every so often whilst clicking through messages and adding friends etc. I forget exactly which account I'm logged in on.
This has proven to be the source of many an embarassed moment in our office.
Not least of all when you realise that the nice message you've just got from a really really hot young girl who apparently "had the best time ever last night, thank you, thank you, thank you, I can't wait til thursday!!! XXXX" isn't commenting on us (alcohol having killed all braincells) but rather just on the nightclub I work in.
Bubble = Burst, Reality = Back in.
(Wed 17th Sep 2008, 18:42, More)
Work Facebook vs Personal Facebook
I work for one of those companies that pretends to be a person. We've got about 2500 friends and most of them are from our main customer base (the students of the town I live in).
Unfortunately, every so often whilst clicking through messages and adding friends etc. I forget exactly which account I'm logged in on.
This has proven to be the source of many an embarassed moment in our office.
Not least of all when you realise that the nice message you've just got from a really really hot young girl who apparently "had the best time ever last night, thank you, thank you, thank you, I can't wait til thursday!!! XXXX" isn't commenting on us (alcohol having killed all braincells) but rather just on the nightclub I work in.
Bubble = Burst, Reality = Back in.
(Wed 17th Sep 2008, 18:42, More)