Allman Brothers
Saw them front row and center at the Horde festival when I was in my early 20's ('94?). Gregg downed almost a liter of Jack Daniels by the time their 2 plus hour set was over. I was completely sober, which is rare for me at shows, and it was easily the greatest set I have ever witnessed.

I also met Sheryl Crow, who was wearing a ridiculous cat-in-the-hat hat. I took her for a ditzy cunt and fair to say my opinion hasn't changed to this day.
( elbow, Sun 7 Jun 2009, 2:23, Reply)

The night I knew cannabis wasnt right for me. delighting japanese tourists and the beanfield fiasco
Stonehenge free festival sometime back in the 80s.
Was a part time new age traveller and funded my life by selling jewellery, hash pipes and chillums at festivals.
So there Iam at Stonehenge. one of the crowd who tear down the barrier and storm the sacred stones on the Solstice morning, the police just step back, one cop to each 50 revellers they really couldnt do anything else.
And what a day that followed.
To say I got wasted is an understaement.
Late that night when I just couldnt function any more I decided to call it a day and find my tent/bed.
Wandered around until I found myself in front of a tent that looked like mine.
Unzipped the door, looked in and thought 'no this isnt my tent'
So wandered around the site again.
Came back to the same tent.
Again I looked.
Oooh they have the same sleeping bag as me.
They have the same rucksac as me, but this is not my tent.
Another circuit of the festival brings me back to that tent again.
Ooh they have the same jewellery cases as me, and a box of chillums like mine, but this is not my tent.
Another few circuits with the same results and I end up thinking ' I dont care whos bloody tent this is I'm going to sleep in it.
Wakes next day in my tent surrounded by my things and the realisation I wasted about 4 hours of my life I'll never get back due to being so wasted I didnt recognise my own tent and belongings.
I quit the weed right then.
Was 10 yrs before I imbibed again and then I just fell asleep.
Weed is just isnt for me.

At the same festival I got naked, lay down in the teepee village to get an all over tan, legs spread.
Was chilling out until I heard a commotion.
A group of 20+ japanese tourists all clicking away and chattering excitedly .
Looks up, shrugs and lets them get on with taking pics of large naked english hippy lady.
That could probably been included in last weeks unexpected nudity QOTW

For some reason I decided to hitch home and left all my belongings in a travellers bus.
Next seen on national TV when the Battle of the Beanfeild made the news.
I watched a bus being smashed up on TV with my stuff on board.
Met up with them later and got my belongings back.


Festivals?
The 80's really had it nailed
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Sun 7 Jun 2009, 1:20, Reply)

My friend asked me to come to a festival.
I took way too much 'special K', stripped down to my underpants, and started telling everyone how much I loved them while stroking their cheeks. My friend was really embarrassed after I did this to someone he knew, he started telling me I was a disgrace and he wished he'd never invited me. In my 'delicate' state it kind of freaked me out and I started thinking everyone was looking at me and talking about me. I was shaking, hiding from everyone, almost crying...I had to have a few cold ales to calm down, and I was still a bit jumpy for the rest of the time. Ian Paisley was good though.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 7 Jun 2009, 0:27, Reply)

Well...
My first ever Reading Festival experience was (after checking wikipedia) in 2003.
I tagged along with a girl who I'd met at a Placebo gig in April and her friends, having told my mum I was going with a friend (who in fact I didn't see until the Sunday night).
I got on with her friends, they were nice as was the girl but I wasn't interested in this lot, I was interested in 'experiencing' the festival. This I did.
Thursday night, after drinking a fair few beers on arriving, I wandered around the campsite and found a load of people around a campfire.
I join them and strike up a good friendship with a lot of them, the drunken conversation flows well until I have an idea.
"The Polyphonic Spree are playing on the friday, why not form our own version?"
And so "The Multi-stalker humming spree" was born- the idea was simple, we all dressed in those orange ponchos that were given out before walking around the walkways.
There we found people walking on their own and started to follow them, following my lead we all as one started to hum louder and louder until the stalkee turned round to see what was behind them.
Then we turned around, looking innocently around and did that nonchalant whistle that you do when you've been caught doing something.
We'd been doing this for about 20 minutes (or 5 hours, I don't know) when we saw someone heading towards some cars, obviously intending to get something from their car.

*Now, for those who don't know, the cars are arranged in rows so anyone going down such a row is quite conspicious, so imagine someone going down this row followed by about 16 people in orange macs.*

We started our game but when the person turned around they didn't smile, grin or join us as before. No. They turned round and yelled "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU LOT THINK YOU'RE DOING? YOU'RE ALL FUCKING WEIRDOS, FUCK OFF"
This was brilliant. We fell about laughing before deciding that we'd not beat this and returned the the campfire before I bid the group farewell- I had to leave, much like the littlest hobo, and find other people to entertain. (Not before getting a certain lady's phone number though.)
Looking back on this, I do realise that it could be taken as quite sinister, but I assure you, we were a few people rather drunk just trying to have a laugh and spread randomness.

Friday comes around, I watch some bands and get some autographs from the tent (meeting the Polyphonic Spree was rather weird but Blink 192 were pretty cool) before heading back to the tent for sleep- I hadn't slept that Thursday night.

Saturday rolls around, again I watch some bands and meet some of my faves (The Cooper Temple Clause, legends), then I get talking to a group of people, have a debate about prawns and pass out watching the Doves (There Goes the Fear has since been my favourite chilling song).
One of the girls in the group I had been with liked TCTC too and would I like to go watch them with her? Yes. Yes I would.
They had already started so we had to nudge a bit to get into the outsidey bit of the moshpit, I turned to her and we started kissing, then she breaks it off and her head slowly lowers.
Are we standing on quicksand? Oh no! We weren't, as the sound of my fly being unzipped explained.
10 seconds later (not really, fact fans!) she came up and kissed me again, but this time with cockbreath which I tolerated.
Alas, when 'Panzer Attack' played, we got seperated. TCTC finished their set and I tried finding her to no avail. Arse.
So I wander around and I find people scavenging litter, so I follow these wombles to see what they're doing.
They're building fires in the arena out of litter partly for warmth but mostly to piss off security. I help them just as Blur's fireworks go off after The Universal had played. The two things seemed to go together naturally.
I wasn't really that tired so I walked round, found 2 brummies in an inflatable sofa with a didgereedoo and sat down with them putting on fake westcountry accents and greeting passers-by. Had some good conversation with them too from what I rememeber.
Sleepy time.

Sunday arrives, yay!
Again, see bands, go to autograph tent and meet a few bands, piss off the drummer from Hot Hot Heat there. Usual fare.
I can't really remember Sunday night, I got drunk (surprise surprise) and saw my friend who I'd told mum I was going to Reading with.
It was decided a good skanking was in order, so we join a conga line which was currently reciting "I like big butts and I cannot lie". Unfortunately I skanked a bit too hard and my phone came out.
I was devestated when I found out, spent the evening looking for it with no results.
A girl I'd apparantly met before let me use her phone to phone my parents telling them what had happened, then let me lick her out.
Put me off doing that particular activity for a while I must say.

Monday rolls around and clobbers me over the head with a hangover the size of Prince's ego.
I train it home, then try phoning home when in Cardiff as I'd like a lift from the bus station in Cowbridge and they need to know when my bus is due back.
No answer.
Now, I'm not normally this incapable, but my brain had taken a battering this weekend.
I thought that I'd never get home without my parents giving me a lift home (I live in the middle of nowhere) so I then rang directory enquiries to get phone numbers (having lost my phone) of my entire family to get them to phone both my parent's mobile phones to let them know where I was. I ring the entire family and get nothing. I get a bus back and then a taxi to my house from bus station, then I let myself in (no-one home, weird!) and fell asleep in the bath.
Dad came home an hour later, he'd been playing golf and mum had gone to grans with my sisters and the dog. Just as they'd told me on Thursday before I left.
(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 22:54, 5 replies)

Not even going to pretend I was there
But I love this clip. Richie Havens playing at Woodstock '69.

All the other bands had been held up in the massive traffic queues to get to the site, so Havens was kept on for hours. Legend has it that when he ran out of things to play, he started making them up. This song is an example.

Even if it's not true, it's a nice story and an awesome song.
( MatJ LOOK, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 21:28, 1 reply)

Somethings man is not meant to interfere with
Hi Everyone,

Long time lurker (the only post that I've done before was bitching last year that I didn't go to Glastonbury).

I could write about my first Reading where I accidently ignited a gas canister, which a helpful metalhead booted into the next field (I'll be interested to see if any stories about a fireball landing on someones tent come in). Or I could write about the 3 litres of pear cider I necked in half an hour that led to me leading a conga line in front of the main stage at Glastonbury to "play that funky music white boy".

However, there seems to be a lot of those type of stories so I'll tell you about what was my most memorable festival moment of last year.

I was at Secret Garden Party, wandering around and looking at the food on offer. They had bacon sandwiches, they had pies BUT no breakfast themed pies. For the rest of the festival, I sat by the lake and divised what would be the best pie in the world: It would have chopped bacon, sausages, baked beans and tomatoes for a filling in shortcrust pastry, I would serve it with hash browns on the side and top the pie with a fried egg. This would make me my millions! I would be a hero to the common man and women would swoon at my mad pie skills!

Shame that when I got home and made it was saltier than a seaman's semen.

Ho hum
(rogers nelson is the unexpected item in your bagging area, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 21:24, 3 replies)

Sneaking into festivals.
My mate, who we shall call Dave is an expert at sneaking into fezzies, i don't know why but he just has a certain magic about him.

* V festival: Walked straight past the security, having briefly nodded at the first security guard, the other must have assumed nobody could be that cocky as to risk walking past the other six.

* V festival: Again the same thing the following year.

* Glastonbury festival 05 : Same, walked past the security, no questions asked.

* Sunrise festival: This is believe was his proudest moment.
Having being dropped off about two miles from the actual entrance to the festival (his rucksack in the boot of his mates car, leaving him with nothing but his phone, drugs and the coat on his back)with the intention of meeting his mate a bit further on, who would at that point have a 'spare' wristband.
For some strange reason his hypnotic jedi/ Derren Brown mind didn't work on the Somersetian stewards (maybe scrumpy cider has immunititive properties, who knows?), so without further ado, dave walked off around the corner away from the stewards, hopped over a wall, sneaked through a large junk yard (avoiding a range rover full of security) and hid.
After they eventually drove off, Dave hoppped over another fence into the fields and voila he could see the perimeter mesh fence of the festival several fields away.
Next, he bumped into a group of about six other people who were sneaking into the fezzie and declined their offer of sneaking in with them. He headed off in a slightly different direction, keeping lowin the grass, hopping through hedges and tip toeing across the road into parallel fields.
And so on... Until he got to a farm and realised that the only way onwards was to run through the farm yard and somehow not get spotted by anyone (including the dogs or the bloke in tractor)... Unfortunately he was spotted by the dogs and had to run across the farm, through a hedge and into the next field which unfortunately was divided by a rather big stream/river.

To his dismay, as he was pondering how to cross the water, he heard a vehicle pull over and he turned to see a police car on the other side of the hedge and two coppers getting out. The farmer must have alerted security.

Shit! he thought, better hide, luckily his cgreen and brown camouflage coat enabled him to blend into the green grass, and for an agonising five minutes that must have seemed like an eternity, he lay perfectly still. The police eventually buggered off.

Relieved and ecstatic he got to his feet and again tried to find a way over the water, but his options were few: Get soaked, risk the road, risk the farm or give up.

As he was ponderng these, he barely had time to notice a police range rover had pulled up on the other side of the fence and two more police officers stepped out of the vehicle.

This time Dave was unprepared and barely had time to hide behind a tree, thankfully just in the nick of time, when his fucking phone started ringing and the copper spotted him.

Quick as a flash, Dave smiles his typical shit eating grin and simply said 'Oh sorry Officer, i wasn't hiding from you, i was trying to get to the car park where my girlfriend would be greeting me with my workers wristband, as i'm a day late and the stewards at the gate didn't believe me'... (his friend on the phone heard every single word)

The copper stopped. Stared at him.

Dave shitting himself, hoping to god that the officer doesn't search his pockets and find a moderate personal quantity of disco biscuits and skunk.

So Dave wanders over, shakes the officers hand and again his unyielding cheekiness erupts.

'Officer do you mind if use your telephone to ring my girlfriend?'

'Sure, you can sit in the back seat, we'll drive you to the car park'

So the officer passes Dave his mobile phone and he proceeds to ring his mates.

The telephone call goes something like this:

Dave: 'Oh hi mate, i'm in the carpark, the police have been nice enough to give me a lift past the stewards'

Friend A: 'What the fuck! You should have waited at the entrance, we've been out looking for you'

Dave: 'Ok thats nice. Can you put (Friend B) on the phone please, she has my wrist band'

Friend B: 'Have you been arreste. OMG, Dave what' happened.., FUCK!!!'

Dave: 'Yeah thats cool, yeah just meet me in five minutes then, just look for the police range rover'

Friend B: 'I'm not fucking sneaking you in, in front of the police'

Dave: 'Yeah just bring the spare wrist band, cheerio... bye'

Then the most uncomfortable ten minutes of his life as the police started asking question.

Where are you working? Where are you from? What do you do?

And luckily friend B came out with a 'borrowed' wrist band and despite the fact it was clearly clamped shut (i.e slipped off skinnier friends wrist) and the fact that the wrist band was a punters wrist band and not a workers wrist band, and despite the fact he had clearly been caught sneaking in, and that he had a pocket full of drugs....

The police had more or less unknowingly driven him to his destination and even let him use their phone.

He shook their hands, thanked them for their time and gave friend B the biggest kiss on her cheek and spent the next few minutes awkwardly struggling with the under sized wrist band, before getting it on only a few yards away from the police.

He then walked past the stewards, and i assume it was the happiest moment of his life.

Legend.

100% True story.

Length - Six fields or so.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 21:18, 1 reply)

Two words my friends
WooD StocK

A salute those who were there and blazed the trail for the rest of us!!
(tingtwatter Eating loads of red meat since, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 21:07, 3 replies)

Portable urinals
If anyone here has been to Download, you may be aware of the infamous bottle fights, and there is always an arsehole or two who thinks its clever to throw bottles of piss.

Anyway there is a device which you can use at a festival which you can piss into, and it literally solidifies urine and when your done you can dispose it into a bin, but instead you get some dirty cunts who throw the contents into the crowd, so the unlucky recipient gets splattered with jellied pee.
(Lord Chode, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 19:02, 1 reply)

Big Day Out 1999
I went there on my own, with the plan being that I would meet my girlfriend there. After spending all day moving from one failed arranged meet to the next, to the background of bands I didn't much care for and text messages alerts proffering the next possible meeting spot, I lost interest and decided to make my way to the front ready for Metallica.

Finally, reaching the front just in time for the start of the set, I was convinced this was going to be the epic climax I needed to a crap day.

The Ecstasy Of Gold started playing; excellent. The crowd started pulsating and going mental; excellent. Breadfan tears the stage up as Metallica open with the loudest noise I've ever heard; jackpot!

Until, in the excitement, the mosh-pit collapsed. This is ok, it's fixable. But as one part of the field stood back up, another fell down and it was cascading. A radius of about 20 people was collapsing around the front of the pit. Security couldn't pull people out fast enough, and the people at the back, naturally, didn't know to stop pushing. I was smack bang in the middle of this and felt like I actually came close to dying. There I was in the scorching sun, a little bit steaming and probably de-hydrated, trying to stay on my feet as 6 foot, brick-shithouse biker-types were collapsing around and on top of me and *bawling their eyes out*.

Metallica eventually had to stop playing to let the crowd get sorted (kudos to them for that, actually. It really was getting serious.) and stood back up.

I fell my way backwards out of the crowd, grateful to be alive, and crash landed on a grass verge just beyond the main crowd line. I watched the remainder of the set from there, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

My parents had arranged to be in the area to pick me up that evening and on the way home, basking in the glory of being alive and having seen my then heroes play live, I had the added bonus of more text messages and missed calls from my angel of a girlfriend. Apparently Pres, her supposed ex-boyfriend, had decided that, after spending the day with her and his friends, they were going to go home but had no room in the car for her. And she needed a lift. Bless.

Last I heard, her parents had to drive from Manchester to Milton Keynes at about 11pm to pick their darling daughter up.
(Her Ghost zomegle.com, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 18:55, Reply)

glasto 96 revisited
also i didn't really enjoy sharing a tent with my pal... it was two in tents!!!!

aiifhangyooo!!

if its bindun SORRY, if not WAHEEY!!
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 17:21, Reply)

glasto 96
hitherto known as the first really shit rainy year... my pal and i set off on the tuesday proir to the main weekend so's we could get in and settled, meet folk and extend the fun..it rained all the way there so much so that the winscreen wipers on the bus broke and we had to sit in a service station for three hours till it was mended... we eventually made our way to bristol and managed to get to last bus to wells via pilton, it was almost warm and dry so we were really exited and looking forward to a chance to have some dancy fun... we made our way round the perimeter looking for an opportunity then, i chucks my mate up, he dangles down and takes the bags then prepares to help me up. i jump up, take his hand and crack.... WTF!! pal in agony we got in, just.... he's not in a good way...... pitch tent in very top field to right under solitary tree, as every year before that so we could meet up with folks and they could find us....
that night it rained..a lot and we got wet!! fucknuts... next day we put up the flag and decided to tag up the main wall overlooking the entire site, you know we was ere kinda thing... was going well till i ran out of paint so i legged it back to the tent to get more and ran into a broken branch at about eye level end on i have to add that we were well into the festival stash by this point so i was a bit smashed.... it put me on my arse and hurt,, a lot, asked pal how bad is it? he went a bit green and said pretty bad, blood pissing down my face and neck!!... i applied entire loo roll with pressure and skinned up, we went to first aid tent where well meaning lady went green too.. ended up in feild hospital with some dude telling me to get to bristol hosp... not bloody likely says i, my face was/is a mess and i still fetch out bits o wood and stuff from time to time, i had a gash right under my jaw on the left and up my cheek, also another under my left eye, while i was there i had him take out the stitches from a wound over my right eye from the previous week!! long story, (got dumped... really pissed and stoned and come off bike at speed, top concussion and scar).... any hoo me and pal spent night in more rain in ever deepening pool o water... we got to friday just as echo and the bunnymen were starting on the main stage we left... abandoned tent, sold entire stash, bought large industrial strength scrumpy vat and fooked off home nursing our wounds.....

might i add that in the previous 5 years we had had the most rip roaring substance fuelled joy fest ever with lots of bands seen lots of dancing to be had and plenty o sun and nekkid frolicks... it seemed that all my karma had come in at once and that was the singular worst ever episode in my life...

i have not been to a fest since and have not touched any mind bending stuff since....

still could be worse......
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 17:18, Reply)

A little tip to potential thieves..
Don't pitch your tent in between three different groups of people.

Then, especially, don't rob those surrounding tents over the course of the next three days.

If you do, don't leave your tent wide open, so we can all see in and spot all our belongings.

Then, especially this one, don't complain TO THE POLICE that someone set your tent on fire after taking all your belongings out, when about 8 to 10 people are all going to point out that those were our fucking things in the first place...

Hats off to the police on that one. They took him away, made sure everyone got what stuff they could back and took the stuff he'd nicked further afield as evidence, whilst laughing at the smouldering remnants of his weekend...
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 16:08, 1 reply)

My first festival experience
...was fantastic: Glasto '94; the sun shone all weekend, 'The Holy Bible' was about to hit the shelves and the Manics played a blinder on the friday night. Oasis were about release 'Definitely Maybe' and had not yet become the superstar dickheads they aspired to be (although they were trying hard, bless 'em). Blur were riding the crest of the wave that was 'Parklife'. Orbital played a legendary set that was my awakening to electronic music. The rest of the festival lineup was cool, too. About £80 a ticket for the weekend (even though 'nobody' paid to get in, in those days) as I remember it.

Every festival since has been a bit of a let down, really. Muddy, no (not even rubbish) sex, crap gigs, beatings, tent set on fire, £200+ to get in. I don't go to them anymore.

Thanks, Glastonbury 94: you ruined festivals for me. Damn you!
(minlan no longer barks at bancleys, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 16:02, Reply)

Offworld last year...

My friend arrived at the festival and had to be carried in as she was already K-holing. I managed to get myself under the influence of five different psychoactive substances at the same time. This was intense, but the fact that we were in-tents as well made it even more intense. I climbed a big fucking hill on acid and felt like the king of the world. Don't really remember much else; the music was pretty whack but had the best time I've had at any festival ever. Shame I can't go this year.
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 15:55, Reply)

For those who were wondering
Yes, Global Gathering is the biggest pile of shite festival in Britain. In my opinion anyway.

It is for this reason that I decided on taking copious amounts of mind grenade type disco biscuits, despite quitting over a year ago, in order to pass the time more effectively. Which as it turns out was a bit of a crap idea.

During this time my girlfriend had to look after me, and to this day she still says she hated me a bit that night...

A few excerpts include, getting into a fight with a chav who shouted 'Why don't you go back to freak town!?' at me for wearing a wizard hat and kimono... She admits this looked hilarious, as it consisted of me in technicolour outfit, hair and beard, scuffling half heartedly with an increasingly concerned chav, whilst shouting about not having the train fare.... For some reason.

In a crowded bar, going to put my arm out to rest on the wall, and falling, due to the lack of wall there, a la Delboy style. This too was apparently, very funny.

Trying to break my way on to the bungee jumping crane and being wrestled away from it by the steward.

Having a full conversation with my girlfriend about what she does for a living and how weird that was, because 'that's what my girlfriend does!'.

Finding myself in the middle of a circle of people, shouting and cheering whilst a randomer tackled me to the floor and ran away. I have no idea what that was about. Nor how I got there. Neither does she.

At 8 in the morning on the Monday, arguing with her and having to get a passer by to clarify that in fact, yes it is Monday morning, and no there are no more bands.

And, if you want to see what happens when you pass out, before all of this even started, check out the picture I've been debating whether to put up in the replies.....
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 15:39, 8 replies)

Pop-up Pirate
At Leeds there is the legend of a man who lurks in the disgusting faeces-filled trough beneath the campsite loos & occasionally livens up people's toilet experiences by sticking his head up through the loo seat & yelling "Pop-up Pirate!". I don't know if he is real, but I check every time...just in case...
(Katurian, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 14:41, 2 replies)

Download 2005
I had the pleasure of working at Download '05 back when i used to work for Rocksteady security, (yeah, I'm one of those violent Scottish security chaps I've read quite a lot about)
I was basically given the task of working night shift, just patrolling the camp sites, I think I was in the Red camp, not too sure but it was furthest away from the arena anyway.

The supervisors there did seem incredibly out of touch with the whole thing as they wanted us to be vigilant in confiscating drugs etc. And to go around putting out fires and barbeques regardless of how minute or far away from tents they were. We spent most of the weekend ignoring their instructions and generally chatting to some rather jolly festival goers.

We had this arsehole from Burnley working with us who insisted that he was to sit at the entrance of the camp site and just make sure we were doing our jobs properly. So while we wandered about the site and asked people to sort out any minor infringements (It's easy being security when you're from Glasgow, I asked someone to get down from one of the fences just to hear, "oh fuck, he's Scottish" before he scarpered off) and just generally monging about when we came back about 6 in the morning to find said supervisor's face had turned blue from pneumonia, brought on by just sitting on his arse all night. I still don't know what happened to him.

On the Sunday night there were reports of 'riots' and tent burnings and suchlike but a lot of it was due to an overeaction on the security's part, which wound a lot of folk up. So making my way down to get a cup of tea I saw a lot of yellow security jackets running around after folk and panicked calls over the radio for everyone to make their way towards the main site. Sorry, I'm on a break. Milk 'n' two, love.
(baldylocks, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 14:35, Reply)

Storming the Castle 2006
This is a bike festival held, oddly enough, in the grounds of a castle in the wilds of North East England. We'd got tickets specifically because the Levellers were headlining on the Saturday evening. However, on awaking on Saturday morning we were a bit dismayed to see that it was pissing from the heavens in a manner that reminded me of me after a particularly heavy night on the beer. Relentless; just when you thought that it might be easing a bit, a further torrent would be mercilessly unleashed.

Putting up a tent in that wouldn't be fun. Oh no. So a plan was formed; we'll take the tent in the car, and if it's still spunking rain from the heavens, one of us will stay sober and we'll drive home after the band have finished.

When we got to the site, the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing. It could have been described as pleasant, if it weren't for the copious levels of mud. Still, this means we can both relax and have a drink. Yay.

After putting the tent up, we sauntered around the site, grabbing some food and having a look at the stalls, before going to the big marquee where the bands were playing. The evening passed, we enjoyed the bands, and the chatting to random strangers. It was on the way back to our tent that we noticed it - a portaloo, lying on its side, and half submerged in a muddy puddle. A familiar stench of chemicals laced with piss and shit assaulted our senses. A bouncer was looking slightly grim. We asked him what had happened.

Turned out that someone had been ejected from the venue for being a bit of a knob; in his drunken disgust at being treated so shoddily, he had taken a flying leap at the big blue box of fetidness, and knocked it over.

Unfortunately, there was a girl still inside. A girl who was somewhat upset at suddenly finding herself horizontal and becoming rapidly covered in the remnants of God-knows how many hundreds of festival goers half digested burgers, piss and chemicals.

A bit grim. I felt sorry for whoever would be sharing a tent with her that night, as there were no shower facilites on site.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 6 Jun 2009, 13:56, Reply)

Download again.
Anybody who witnessed the bottle fight in 2006 will know that those things can be quite amusing, if you're into that. But somebody always takes it too far don't they...

This one happened to be 'Superman'. Aptly named for his Superman T-shirt, who took it upon himself to be 'the hilarious character' by throwing bottles full of water from the top of a hill some 30ft foot below onto unsuspecting passers by. This would have been funny, if the other people were in on the fun, but as it turns out, many were unimpressed when a 2 litre bottle full of water unexpectedly landed on their heads. Something I imagine to be an unwelcome shock, and quite painful.

As the shenannigans progressed, people became more and more upset with the proceedings, when eventually in what can only be described as a monumental misjudgment of the situation, Superman upped the ante by throwing a 5 litre bottle, full to the brim with water below.

Right.

Onto.

Someone's.

Head.

I've never seen a crowd of metal fans go silent before, but it is almost as deafening as being at the front for Metallica (who played a fucking amazing set later on, if you're interested....).

Enough was, evidently, enough. Two fellows made their way up the hill, and... Well it looked like they were going to shake his hand...!

They couldn't be congratulating him could they?

They are, they're shaking his ha... Oh, no. Nope, It was all a clever ruse, and Superman fell for it.

Watching two people beat superman in a cloud of dust, whilst a crowd cheered was a surreal experience, although I think the irony may have been lost on the misguided fool at that point....
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 12:41, 3 replies)

I have never been to a festival
All that fucking camaraderie, I'd rather sniff lighter gas in bed and listen to the Chemical Brothers on my gramophone.
(SSSSS, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 11:57, 1 reply)

Download 2009
I have VIP backstage access & camping this year.

Which is nice.
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 11:48, Reply)

Car keys
The end of Download '06 was one of my worst experiences ever.

For the record, and for legal purposes I should explain that I have had many good experiences of the Scottish security in general. It just seems they were complete bastards at download festival.

Anyone who was there will know about the 'riots' that consisted of a few people burning bins and shouting a lot, whilst dressed in black.

Basically it gave the Glaswegian security a chance to kick the piss out of a bunch of drunkards. Which is always fun.

We were oblivious to all of this as we were happily chugging beer at our tents, after checking out a rather amusing set from Guns and Roses. All was well. My friend Ben remembered he had a crate of warm beers left in the boot of my car, and was thusly heavily encouraged to go and aquire said warm ale, so we could introduce it to our faces post haste.

I thought nothing of giving him my car keys as the siren song of beer was too hard to resist. plus I'd been encouraged to try ketamine at the time, which as i remember was like sitting in a warm, soft cloud of 'I don't give a fuck'.

Ben merrily went on his way and we carried on, still oblivious to the carnage that was happening on the way. By this point, they had sectioned off each campsite, and there were rows of police officers with dogs at the entrance to the site, whilst the aforementioned Scottish security were seemingly, randomly hitting people who had the audacity to be existing at that point in time and space.

By the time it was dawn, we realised something was afoot as our friend hadn't returned so we walked to the path and discovered that there was in fact bad juju afoot. police and dogs were parading around, with security pushing and shoving anyone in the way telling them to pack up and fuck off. A marvelous end to the festival. There in the midst of it all was Ben, being tackled to the ground, screaming like a bastard and swinging for his life.

I'll cut this short here as it's getting long.

Cue to 4 or 5 hours later, after a bit of sleep amidst the mayhem. Ben had not returned, neither had my keys.

We packed up and left, to find my car. Out of the bushes next to it emerges Ben, wet, cold, shaking and red eyed. He had lost my keys.

The urge to punch his beard of his face was overpowered by the sheer pity I felt looking at him. He looked like an abandoned dog, as he had to spend the night outside in the bushes next to the car park (crying probably), where it pissed it down for about 3 hours solid.

We had to wait in what turned out to be blazing sunshine for about 8 hours for a tow truck to take the car home, who then attempted to charge us £90 a wheel to lift it as the handbrake was on. Who, when we explained our unfortunate lack of £360 to piss away, and offering to smash the easily replaceable window to remove the handbrake, magically remembered he could break in and do it for free.... Fucking chancer.

Anyways, that is why I now never drive to festivals.

Or exist near Scottish security.

Or like Ben.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 11:48, 1 reply)

Right....
DEAR PEOPLE

If your story involoves using a portaloo where NOTHING HAPPENS except you did a shit in unpleasant conditions or that time you took drugs and it was really trippy but ultimately NOTHING HAPPENS then bear in mind that to everyone else it's FUCKING BORING.

SO REMEMBER:

Think before you post. If it's dull as shit, DON'T POST.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 11:36, 17 replies)

Reading Festival: My Experience
Drugs

Drugs

Drugs

Alcohol

Drugs

Meet my sister, talk to her for half an hour, fail to recognise her

Drugs

Alcohol

BBQ'd bacon

Alcohol

Drugs

Vague recognition of some music playing

Failed attempt to chat up a girl

Lose tent & rucksack with clothes in a bush on the way to the station

Get stopped by police on way home
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 10:48, 1 reply)

Global Gathering 2007
was full of mud.

However I can be seen dancing like a loon here:

You can see me about 50 seconds in, guy in brown T shirt waving a bottle in the air

Good times.
( I_Was_Mordred, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 9:37, 2 replies)

Shittest festival ever...
Tryst'o'Gal, Forest of Galloway, 2006.

Got there. Took some acid. An hour later, I was wandering around fucked out of my skull. It was then that I realised I hadn't put my tent up.

I'm not sure how many of you have taken acid, but if you have then you'll know that trying to actually *do* anything is nigh on impossible. I took my tent out of its bag, and then spent three hours flapping around with it like some kind of bizzare, hideously confused pigeon.

As the acid started to take hold, I remember seeing a very good band called Bombskare, and then freaking out in quite a big way and huddling up in the front of my car for the next six hours.

The next day, I drunk a lot of cider, smoked a lot of weed, and then witnessed a woman crash her car (while tripping) through the trees surrounding the forest, killing her boyfriend in the process.

What a fucking lovely festival.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 7:57, 1 reply)

In order to have the 'festival experience' without the 'festival cost'
I listened to a live CD of my favourite band while living in a refugee camp.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 6:26, 4 replies)

Just a quick one! Sorry, no pic.
Again at Download...

Not sure what it is, but at festivals I naturally cannot take a shit. Trouble is, eat enough shit there and you're given no choice. So I find on the Saturday, myself in a portaloo, with 3+ days of crappy festival food ready to drop and, given a couple of minutes create a MONSTER. It was so big, the flushing action of the pump alone couldn't shift it! Of course they'd just started the mms to main stage screen service XD Just had to be done!
(suicidalducky has too much time on his hands, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 6:10, Reply)

Stupid Ladies Toilets
A few years ago at the Big Day Out I made the mistake of waiting to queue for toilets when I was already busting for a wee.

And then I made the mistake of queuing in a line with only one toilet at the end.

And then there was no toilet paper in it.

And then I saw that was because all the toilet paper had been used to fill up the bowl so that the toilet wouldn't flush.

And then I did an exceptionally large poo.

And then I looked at it, sitting there on its comfy bed of other people's used toilet paper, having just wiped my bum with an EFTPOS receipt from my pocket. It kind of looked like it was sleeping.

And then I washed my hands and left.

And then my friend used the toilet after me.

And she wasn't like a really good friend who I wouldn't mind seeing my sleeping poo.

And so I felt embarrassed around her for the rest of the day.
(Mr._F is not actually a man- this username is a lie!, Sat 6 Jun 2009, 4:23, 1 reply)