Provoking the hippies to fisticuffs
The band we had - SkinTrade - used to be a regular at the Witchfests - a festival of hippies, pagans and goths celebrating magical bits of stick and like really beautiful pieces of coloured glass.

One year once again we got the graveyard slot playing about 3pm, but they paid us well and the rider was pretty decent.

So after the set we crashed into our beer and wine with aplomb, and soon found ourselves having to buy our own bleedin drinks at the inflated Croydon Festival Hall bar prices.

However, a while later we were told that they'd sorted our cheque out, so we were to report up to the band admin suite for it. We all staggered up and in, and were greeted with the sight of an enormous tower of beer! Hooray!

"So, can we have some more beer then, please Ms Goth-in-charge-of-money-an-beer?"

"No that's the collective rider for all of the bands - you've had yours."

"Ah gowan - jus a lirrl beer, no?" and our bass player pulled one out and popped it.

Ms Goth calls "SECURITY!" and sure enough Wannabe Lemmy and his equally biker friend turns up. They see there's four of us, so call "Breaker! Tod!"

And we're seen off premisis. For a beer.

They have a low sense of humour threshold, do hippies, and aren't quite into being as caring and sharing as you might imagine.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 12:29, Reply)